Beaten

There was a glint in your angry eye,

photo by hungrybison

as you reflected on the reality,

that no one,

came to the rescue.

 

There was clear execution,

they were left helpless.

 

With a withering heart,

a stammering voice,

slow and deliberate,

it was both encouraged and avoided.

 

The King was killed,

then his heir,

they became alone and helpless.

 

And so I forced them to drink,

and made them to dance,

until both they and I,

burst into flame.

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Filed under creative writing, micro stories, poem, poems, short stories

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