Doubt, that slinking being…
Harrowed by it’s cries.
Frozen upon seeing,
A life writhes and dies.Fear, that monstrous being…
This old tyranny.
Battered, broken, fleeing,
Seeking sympathy.Tired, alone and afraid…
What better time to fight?
This dragon, to you it bade,
Your truest test of might.Β© Sayer Teller
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These poems you write always seem like the sort of cryptic background whisperings and murmurings you’d hear in an ancient Temple or something. Really cool.
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