A fire snaps burning cold, memories burn and scratch. What I’ve lived, unseen by kings and queens who marched us all to death.
The fortunate few are as cursed by fortune or ill fate; the view hinged upon which side of the gate one stands in the mired stain.
What tears at our souls comes not from the outer dark, nor from flames below; but borne on black wings of desires from within Like this? chip in for a coffee via Ko-fi
Golden mountain peaks, frost hoary valleys; bones of the ancients crumble under time, it’s eternal weight. All soldiers sacrificed to the gods of war.
Warriors gather your arms, Embrace the women’s fair charms, Kiss away their alarms—no lament Leave hearth home intent for harms!