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I - Captured King
THE CHRONICLE OF THE BLOOD-FILLED CROWN
I: Captured King
Alas, the last flag-bearer has perished.
Everything burns a land I once cherished.
I am dragged, my arms chained and my feet bound;
The armor of the malevolent guards making a ringing sound.
Almost like a bell
Or perhaps Death rings his knell.
I am dropped in front of a thrown I once owned.
Upon it sat an enemy his face as hard as stone.
Slowly, the stone-hard face cracks a sneer.
No room for hope, only fear.
Oh, and to think he was once my son!
No longer, no more this war he has won.
His face was one that I held dear.
Once he was a babe, his face tear-smeared.
His mother would calm him and make him smile.
How could he bestow on her a fate so vile?
Beneath his sword, she did fall
Her head now mounted on his trophy wall.
I named him Peace, which he changed to War.
All havoc reeked from his evil core.
And my two daughters, Love and Lust,
One escaped, the other ground to dust.
And his brothe
Prologue: The Last Flag-Bearer
CHRONICLE OF THE BLOOD-FILLED CROWN
Prologue: The Last Flag-Bearer
We must not part, my flag and I;
Although I've lost an arm, a tooth, and an eye.
The birds of war, above our heads do fly:
Raven, crows and vultures all screech and cry.
Innumerable dead carcasses on the ruddy ground do lie.
The widow weeps, as the dying man sighs.
Houses burn, and children scream and cry.
Men, horses and sheep on the same ground all die.
But we must not part, my flag and I.
I am the last of the eight.
The other seven have met their fate.
I suppose they must do, to reach Heaven's gate.
Death is the only route, and it is never late.
For every soul is given its unknown-to-mortals date,
And every soul shall meet its fate.
To this war, did those seven their lives dedicate.
But I and my flag must not separate;
For I am the last of the eight.
If my flag falls, our war is lost I tell you!
And hear my speech, for I speak true.
None shall remain of this except but a few.
And they shall be th
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More