Werewolf's reign By aldo kraas, www.PoetryPoem.com/poet11586 Unlock all Features - Upgrade to Poetry Prime
The court consists of
disciples
rinsed clean of who they were before
and rebranded in the revolution's
likeness.
The best archers (snipers) and
horsemen (offroaddrivers)
occupy high positions of envy but
the foot soldiers are loved much more
by the king.
Oh, yes, the king.
The king is very short for someone
so terrifying.
A Japanese crow perches on the king's shoulder
and is fed constantly, therefore
unableble to fly and remains
the butt of countless jokes of those
who are unaware of how it ate the
eyes of the dead when the
war began burning all chances of
salvation.
The king does not forgive.
Like Sun Tzu, one mistake is all the
justification needed for an unforgettable
punishment all who survive
are guaranteed to learn from.
The disciples follow in
migration to a bloody paradise,
washing their armor with sweat and
cleansingtheir souls with day-long silences.
This pleases the king.
If in militancy and piety they live,
then in war and adversity they will thrive.
She (yes, she)
curls her fingers over the wheel and
steps on the throttle,
the engine's roar calling her band,
her demons, her angels, her brothers,
to run with her like the werewolf she is
in humor, respect, and fear.
She grins upon seeing the city
in the distance;
she knows they will be well-recieved.
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