Shrill shrieks of shock

Panicking and patting chilly cheeks

Futile attempts at rustling spiritless flesh temples

Midnight silently rolled out the red carpet for the Grim Reaper

A mother screams with grief

For her seed has returned to the dust well before his time

A father breaks down and weeps

For the first arrow in his quiver has been snapped into pieces

I bow my head and silently grieve

For a king’s obstinacy is the fuse that has detonated this disaster

Granite was the condition of his heart, simply refusing to see,

That His ego had get off its seat and heed the orders of One greater than he,

Now a land is filled with bleeding hearts and desolate souls.

For sleep gave way to its cousin’s icy grip to leave bodies stiff and cold.

On this dark night where every house experiences a grief-filled outpouring,

I remember how it is said that kings act foolishly, and it is the people that suffer for it.

That couldn’t be any truer than it is now.