Kurdva


Story of a Bard

A roof of opaque smoke,
covers the stars and moon,
the battle keeps on raging,
i hope it will end soon.

I feel this war is pointless,
this battle is for gold
and half the men who fight this,
have simply been told;

"Should you win this battle,
Your names will live forever,
Of course some of you shall perish,
But that's an honor to remember.
The king will pay the recompense,
To your families,
So fight without fear of dying,
And remember these three things:

First fight for honor,
because that is motivation.

Second fight for freedom,
for that is the sensation.

Third and last of my three rules,
This you cannot forget.
Should you live through this whole war,
a new world will be born.

A world of freedom will be brought,
cattle and horses abundant,
Farms will strive and imminently,
begone of urgals repugnance.

The cities will begone of all,
the tyranny and taxes,
men and women both will share,
the death of enemies by axes.

As you can see this war is worth,
the gold and pain and death,
if you do not aggree with me,
then desert and get some meth."

When the prince finished his speil,
all the men revealed,
they avidly sought after this world,
of which he just idealed.

So now i am stuck as you see me here,
an arrow in my back,
and as i am about to die,
i think back to the time.

The time i was a bard in Crain,
i wove great stories true,
my songs and poems wooed the girls,
and now they have no clue.

Their favorite bard about to die,
from a poisoned arrow,
that one mans arrow ended something,
greater then...

I know the end is near now,
when i can no longer rhyme,
I hope that you can find the truth,
In our kings aweful crime




Poetry by Painful Profits
Read 582 times
Written on 2006-05-11 at 04:41

Tags Tyranny  War 

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