Lonely Souls

The Sequel to "Hands, Bands, and Other Trends." It's just whatever I've written down during my hiatus and whatever comes to mind whenever insomnia wants to be a jerk.


29. The Peasant King pt. 3 (I Am Falling in Love with This Tale)

Beware, beware

There's danger in the air

And the crows filter words

Through means absurd

And the king, he stands

On his own again

"The poor king's dying!"

They screech while flying

But the king is on his feet

Because his demise he doesn't plan to meet.


There is little to be told

Of a king so young but old

Whose hands were covered in dirt

Since the damned day of his birth

If the day would be his end

He would have nothing to amend

He never lacked a sky so blue

And nothing he said wasn't true

It was true he was barely fed

But it never left him broken or dead

Our little Peasant King

Only lacked everything.

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