The Song That Got Away

This is a poem that is inverse to Richard III.

Now is the ash shook on our lands

Drifted into the light blue sea by our strife

And all the birds that hovered above our towns

On the ground safely finding crumbs

Now are our feet hopping off to battle

Our horses galloping beneath us

Their peace gathers

Their scented foot oil abounds

While we have grown old

And our bottoms shaped like saddles

To bring encouragement to brave friends

We fight in our dreams

With our silence surrounded by our enemies

But they that fit nothingness so well

And only scare up a cold reflection

With well made armor and satisfied swords

They howl at fierce giants

They that are apt to meet them

Brought to harmony through hardship

Perfect complete for this moment

Carrying this dead sea by themselves

And so timely and well suited

That humans halt before them as they walk by

There is no question why they choose to stay

And be happy having their own light

And revel on their Earth

And though I am busy recovering

Passing away time during these dark days

They have proven heroes

And ease the murky wading of these days

I don't know anything and I let things be

With drunken scribbles, half-truths, and simple living

Now a shadow of my old glory

Once exploiting grey self hatred

And now that our former angels scar Earth so plainly

With clear and outright hostility

Their spirits vomiting out on us

With me having seen my time already

And my fight to remain sane in it

Fly now spirits fly out into the Earth