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White King, the puppetmasterSitting there, lone, lost,
Quietly gasping, sobbing
Over his rejectedness.
How he is appreciated by
The worms of the Rat-lands.
Yet the King of the white palace
The palatial presence of his domineering form
Finds him a disappointment. A failure.
As the White King proclaimed:
He is a boy. He knows
Nothing. Head made of straw,
Empty and hollow. Filled with air and
Ideas and dreams. Useless.
No lord or lady
Has Any use for his like.
He must conform.
He is a poet. Scribbling line
after Line after line of
Nonsenses, drivel. Black on white
Slanders of an existence that
He must appreciate. He lives with
My decree. My expressed permissions.
This will not do.
He must be broken.
He is an artist. He thinks
That his eyes Alone see light
And beauty divine. The stupid
A fraud, meaningless as it is
Useless. What war was won by
Painting? What river crossed by
Beauty? He is doomed for failure.
He must conform.
He is dangerous. His head
Filled with thoughts. Grand,
Conversation in suspensionYou tell me i waste my life away,
Bitter and angry. Regretful. How sweet.
I tell you my spite; sustains and drains.
Sucks what i need away from the roots of
the world tree- tall and majestic.
You tell me I waste my time.
Bitter and angry. Spiteful and hate,
Hateful and hated- Why do you
Insist on spending your time locked
Away in my cage?
I tell you its all part of the plan.
Part of the game; she was quite avid.
I tell you its all part of the game.
My master design.
This is how I play God. How
you play goddess and squire.
Yet you insist on
Stammering away and away
On and on and on like
Some talking bird from the mythical
novella of the turn of the century.
Yet you insist.
Why must you?
My response is clear and concise-
There shall be no peace. There will
Never be joy; you insisted that
This would be The way things woud
Transpire and Resolve.
I'm just fufilling your expecations.
I'm just playing your game.
And i'm definately not winning.
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More