The King

A king was born long ago

the son of nature;of the trees,

like all others he grew

and as prince captured hearts.

So fast his fame spread

men asked him to take throne.

He ruled not one nation

but several did he conquer,

not all men somewhere

but least some everywhere.

His word was shining gold

his sword - blood red,

so he led the people in peace.

Magic ran in his blood

to sponge the tension all away.

The servant king whom people praised

so soon became a tyrant wizard.

None could look him in the eye

nor could turn turn their backs on him

he had asked a reward too great

their blackened souls

for the lead he played.

Thus the king ruled on and on

watching slaves die in his land

their hearts which cried for mercy

their hearts that cried "freedom".


[I've seen lives being distorted by the king whom they where enslaved by;smoking]