He was warned by the songs of old.
Already stricken, he would not sway.
Corrupted by the greed of gold,
Now forever he's gone away.
Our king was gentle, our king was kind.
He always kept his people in mind.
Our king was noble, our king was great.
Our king fought legions at the gate.
Our king caught the Dragon's Sickness,
A cure for which none could find.
Taken by undefeatable illness,
He left to fight with a clouded mind.
To war against both comrade and enemy,
He could not determine friend or foe.
Captured by a villain we could not see,
He had already fallen and we didn't know.
We fought beside him and fell in battle.
We won the war, but also bled.
This poem is our own death rattle.
You're reading the last words of the dead.
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Kojoro's Poetry
I'll post poems, sonnets, haiku, and similar writings here as I write them. Some might be about love and romance, others about war and death, a few might even be about the meaning of life. We'll just have to wait and see what ideas flow from my mind
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