Looking Through Stained Glass

Dark Lord
 
Graphic of a sexy but dangerously dark lord drawing his sword
There was a lord; a man of kindness, of light
After years of service had put down his blade
Known far and wide for his fairness and insight

Though tales of his past battles are lore still oft’ spun
He now lives life with wife and sons, a man genteel
His locks are fair, nearly white though he is still young

Of course there are the ones in life who will harbor ill
The major flaw in things seemingly perfect
A hate grows unchecked for this lord’s blood to spill

Clothed in acts of friendship a darkness they bring
Vile thought became vile deeds slowly put in motion
The first step – smooth as silk, the loss of a ring

Little thought is given, such things occur in a life
Until said ring implicates him in the murders
Of his most precious, his own sons and wife

Still in control, he senses the hand of evil’s spark
As those who try to champion him fall one by one
Some say his clothing was the first to turn dark

Determined on his own, to prove his innocence
He becomes a fugitive slowly alienating all
No longer wanting others death in his defense

Though he never draws on those who doesn’t draw first
The kills mount in the search to clear his name
His quest slowly becoming a mission of blood thirst

As a crimson heat of hate spawns from rancor’s seed
They say the light in his eyes were next to grow dark
For black are his thoughts, oh black they are indeed

The path to truth has taken him past a point that can be undone
And the causes of such, now have great fear of their dark creation
As those of schadenfreude* dwindle down to the first – now last one

His life, once a heaven most people only dream about,
Was one he had never given much of a second thought
But his dark soul exists in hell now, of this he has no doubt

Somewhere in the distance a church sounds a midnight chime
A hope of forgiveness flares briefly but is quickly stamped out
Former allies now foes come face to face for the last time

The reasons for the start of this are lost as final justice come due
Down to the dark strands that were once his locks so fair
The once lord of light's heart has turned to one of the darkest hue

It’s the price for his sins, to be paid of their own accord
The final flame of pure hate, extinguishes the last light of his soul
”One way or another this ends” he snarls drawing first his sword


*schadenfreude - taking pleasure in another's misery

Care to Critque or Comment?
Tell me what you think... E-mail me:
raivenne@theraivenne.com

© 2005 Raivenne (All rights reserved)

bird left

::
THERAIVENNE.COM ::
bird right