low badge
A wise grey king,
Will be alone on his bed.
He’ll grasp gold rings,
He’ll listen to his kin sing,
Yet his eyes will remain on the sword above his head.
It’s clean pristine shaft covered in blood
Only his eyes can see,
The sword that lifted him from the mud,
Now he rules from mountains to sea.
He once held armies together,
Flattening castles with sword, horse and leather.
Now he mopes round his grand house,
Trapped betwixt the walls he worked so hard to win.
And his spoiled children bicker over who next shall be king,
But none of them have bled, itching from lice,
None of them have had to flail in the dark or truly lost hope,
And yet they have the gall to say their lives haven’t been nice!
The king has had to cope, with his dormant warriors mark,
So violence still reigns inside him, poisoning his blood.
Now he feels disdain for his grandchildren, his newly sprouted buds …
wheat hornet
lapis raptor