MikaTheDrunk
Member
[!] Flyers would be posted throughout Al-Khadir and Al-Jabrid, posted among many other notices and missives. Though this one would be rather different from the rest. A poem for all of Anjyarr.
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I see our streets, as many do, littered in golden sand
It flows with our feet throughout daily ventures;
the markets, our homes, the palace Grand.
I see our people, as many do, shifting like our dunes.
Deceitful, pride lusted Egos, all grabbing for a single seat.
A seat that no longer resides at our banquet, but rather buried in consuming sand.
Useless and defeated of it's intended purposes.
The crown claws for it's throne like a cornered beast,
it's handlers consumed in the process.
Yet the sands shift, restless, from the provoking of outliers demanding change.
I see our streets, as many do, bustling with whispers from the inked words inciting war.
A battle with ghosts for bodies, a feud of the few fought for the many;
Many of which never asked for blood shed.
I see the streets, as many do, devoid of our golden sand.
The skirmish between two sides, both inciting baseless change,
have left them bare by use of fear and death.
I see the streets, as many do, soon to be drenched in red.
I ask the crown, I ask these outliers,
Who do you intend to lead when all our people are dead?
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────⊱⁜⊰──── ⋆.ೃ࿔:・ ────⊱⁜⊰────
I see our streets, as many do, littered in golden sand
It flows with our feet throughout daily ventures;
the markets, our homes, the palace Grand.
I see our people, as many do, shifting like our dunes.
Deceitful, pride lusted Egos, all grabbing for a single seat.
A seat that no longer resides at our banquet, but rather buried in consuming sand.
Useless and defeated of it's intended purposes.
The crown claws for it's throne like a cornered beast,
it's handlers consumed in the process.
Yet the sands shift, restless, from the provoking of outliers demanding change.
I see our streets, as many do, bustling with whispers from the inked words inciting war.
A battle with ghosts for bodies, a feud of the few fought for the many;
Many of which never asked for blood shed.
I see the streets, as many do, devoid of our golden sand.
The skirmish between two sides, both inciting baseless change,
have left them bare by use of fear and death.
I see the streets, as many do, soon to be drenched in red.
I ask the crown, I ask these outliers,
Who do you intend to lead when all our people are dead?
────⊱⁜⊰──── ⋆.ೃ࿔:・ ────⊱⁜⊰────