The Making of a Prince IV: Eternal Wars for Sovereignty
A pen—a claymore, a crown; power
A paper—a vast land unconquered; possession
Tear drops and blood trickles down
In a troubled gypsy, pristine in beam and frown;
In a white lily, queen of her regalities;
An esoteric mesh—keys and codes,
Algorithms and genetics ensconced
In the marrows of a little prince's becoming
Burning a thousand year, browning a thousand leaf,
In the escritoire - the sanguinary palms of scars
And there I was, cringing without recoil,
A tatterdemalion defeat
A breathing carrion
Slumbering like a mirror
Concealing light.
But there's the damsel,
The king, and the star,
They vied for me
As how I shall for them
And now they have whittled
A prince from a lifeless stone
Shoved apathy away,
Lulled the demons to sleep,
And gorged destitution to death,
I shall depart and san
This part of the story
Where I shall wan away
From their reach
And shall they recognize
And leave no chance
To stagger and miss.
poem by Norman Santos
Added by Poetry Lover
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