King Slayer

by trogers5


Poetry


a sword
photo creds: pixabay

Toni Rendon ’24

 

Here I am standing on a hill 

Not at the top 

Just here on the hill  

Made up of the bodies of the kings I’ve killed 

 

Their blood trickles onto the ground 

Barely making a sound and washing my past in red 

Their crowns’ weight bowing my head 

Suffocating the last of the innocence I had 

  

My sins lay naked before me in my chambers  

But I’ll have to confront them later 

For tonight another castle I must storm 

So, I pick up my sword and blow the war horn 

 

Another crown added to the weight  

The previous owner dragged through the street 

Only to be thrown on top of the hill 

Just another body of a king I’ve killed 

 

Now here I sit at the top 

Looking over the land stained red from the blood that I spilled 

My sword is rusted, and my face is old 

My skin just a bag for bones 

 

The final head drops 

The crowns roll 

The old story of a king slayer 

Waiting to be told