Pulled on and tugged along,
So like puppets on a string;
How merry is their song
As they serenade their king.
In merriness and mirth
Do they offer up their sword
To he who weighs their worth
With not more than passing word.
With laugh they seal their fate
And with glee they pass away,
Into a world of hate
And a many-splintered day.
The bagpipes then doth wheeze
And the violins doth sigh;
They’re hoping then to please
The Liar who sits on high.
They offer up their gold
To rescue their putrid souls—
As if they could be sold,
And with such miserly goals.
They prance about the room,
With the clap and stomp of foot,
Preparing for the tomb
That doth fester underfoot.
They’ll reach an early grave,
Whether Fate have ruth or not
Their hope of being saved
Lies deep in the mort and rot.
But should the Princess deign
To rummage through the mort,
It would not be in vain
To rescue that sordid court.
How merry are the sheep,
Dancing toward the slaughter;
Should life they hope to keep,
They rely on the daughter.
Should marred become her path,
And the darkness bar her way,
She shall revoke his wrath,
And reveal the light of day.
It’s people like you who make me feel like I don’t have nearly enough talent and that’s great because it makes me drive myself harder. Thank you for the happiness you brought to my heart today. Have a great week ahead. Beautiful thing you have going on here by the way..
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Thank you so, so much :)
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