The Dethroned
The cringing doubts that in his mind were strewn,
Erode what's left of his diminished pride,
All the resolve to fight faded and soon,
As fallen, his soul grimaces inside;
The tolling bells bewail his ebbing days,
The same that pealed in erstwhile revelry,
When lauding victories of yesterdays,
While his glories were yet in heraldry;
But now laurels turned strangers to his head,
A mere specter remained of his great deeds,
If to gallows all these struggles would lead,
His grave, he hopes, would be a boon to weeds;
……And from the stage where now his story ends,
……His foes looked nicer than his supposed friends.
poem by Reyvrex Questor Reyes
Added by Poetry Lover
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