The Death of the Dark Prince

The sword lays buried in the sodden soil
The silhouetted hilt of steel remains still loyal
A dark and black cross upon the green grasses of home
The red tips of blood upon the grass, where I die alone
The warriors last stand, his last thrust of the blade
Are all but memories now past and fade
To die in battle, with my sword in my hand
Is only an ethic, which a warrior can understand?
We had won the war and it should have meant peace
I should have been expecting a different realise

I was looking down in the valleys upon the shades of black
When I got stabbed from behind, knifed in the back
To have seen victory but taste success
This is indeed my last caress
I never got to see my killer, this great warrior
Did not see their face turn into euphoria
But I smelt a familiar smell
Of someone I knew very well
Not an enemy a friend I thought
But I guess with gold anyone can be bought

When I was a child I had nightmare of my death
That I would die under the burning of the dragons' breath
A brave warrior a knight, whose stories would become legendary
Not a lost soul lost in obscurity
The pain of the blade when I felt the cut
And the tip of blade coming through my gut
My legs buckled and my knees bent, I lost my soul
And I stabbed my sword in the earth's soil
And there it lays to this very day
A reminder of the day I past away

Comment On This Poem -- Vote for this poem
The Death of the Dark Prince

[ Control Panel ]
Last 100 Poems