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Post by brodie on Feb 7, 2019 12:48:10 GMT -5
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.They call him a king, for her has slain many foe, humans and dragons but never his own. It is his demons that haunt him, late in the night. Those are the true things that he fears to fight. Broken and bloody, all is not as it seemed; when he swore a blood oath, that would not be redeemed. So now heavy is his head, as the thorns pierce and scratch, even a deal with devil has a catch. Though he tries to fight it, with all of his might. He knows he must see, what we offer for sight. No words will be spoken, not a single sound for this linguist. His will must be broken, his light we extinguish. Now you know the truth, of your sweet bloody king. Body broken but willing and spirit, so able. We will bring him in close, warmed by the shadows, And he will soon settle, for a seat at our table.
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