There lies the legend of a king
Who ruled everywhere and nowhere all at once.
His eyes were the color of ice
And when he bared his teeth, his fangs jutted out like icicles.
It was said that his body was wrapped in thorns.
For the things he had seen,
And the things he had done,
Left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He could not get rid of the red.
A color of genocide, of love, of hate.
He has seen it all.
And he will witness it a thousand times over.
Perhaps on the eve of his vengeful rage
He will look upon the works he has done and cry out in his own destruction.
For his eyes are wide to what he has done,
But his mind is muddled in the red sky.
Not even spirits can guide him now.
He is lost to his memories and his hate.
He is everything and nothing.
A shadow plunged into a deeper darkness.
And as he stares at the moon, he will let out a cry
In the hopes that someone will hear him:
“I have waged war upon the stars!
I am coming for the ruler of my exile.
As I grow closer, I pray you hear my call:
Make sure to tell your chosen one of my glory.”
Copyright 2021 Shadow Wolf Studios