Red River of Pride

The rivers ran fresh that day...with blood that is...

Or perhaps...”was”..once the lives of our vast armada.

Mayhaps the sparrow had said best to that of the hawk

“Pierce me with your beak...I shall die...but you shall...

Become overwhelmed by the hoards the are my kind.”

We were the fiercest...

We were the strongest...

We were...the most sophisticated..

Of all that reigned within the middle plains.

No more...no more...

They came at dawn...

No hoo-raw...

No mighty battle cry...

They simply came...

A mass of vengeance upon the prideful.

Our armies rallied...only to become mists of red,

Among the soil... into which they were trampled.

Our walls! Mightiest of Oak and Iron...fell...

As if they had been made of only dried twigs.

Our archers..skilled with aim!...simply ran out of arrows.

Our King?...He had been advised..by the loyalist and true..

“Yield to them Sir.” Cast out was the man who opened his lips.

The King had roared when the armies met!

Soon to be on his knees..while he begged forgiveness...

Moments before his head was tossed, without care..into the moat.

It’s true...others survived...

My own words...proof that some had fled the horrors of that day.

Only to gather in secrecy and plot their return...They never figured..

That if the King hadn’t killed the peasant...our lands may have flourished still..

Still...They had to find fault...Insisting to place blame...on any but themselves.

In the end...only my words may stand...for I..

I...was the one they blamed...heaping it all upon my soul.

As I had been the King’s Adviser..banished...

If only....If only...I had killed him myself ...

I wouldn’t find myself swaying at the end of their rope.

Stupid Pride....

Stupid War...

Stupid Man...

Out of time...

Drift..away..do...i...