Veneer of the blue bloods
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Porcelain masks
All the lies they have told
All the pain they have caused
Dark winter
The poet without his pen
He sat by the candle
Blue blood genocide
The sword is drawn
All that is left is the undone deed
Masks of the blue blood
Along with their masters they fall
Like glass they shattered
The poet who never completed a piece
Took out his pen he did
And the words began to flow
The blood on the masks
The pristine white mask
The pristine red blood
Like redemption the masks unfold
The darkest secret their old masters never told
How they aren't the true nobles
The pen of the old poet
Completed its first and last poem
That of the fallen monarchy
That of the rebirth of spring. -
It this a political poem?
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More than just a political poem, but I must confess- a good portion of it.Originally posted by DeadPoet:It this a political poem?
A good portion of it.