Forsaken

A Poem by Atarun

A tale of greed and retribution.

He was born in a little house,
In a little gossipful town,
On a hill completely unknown,
And his only friend was a mouse.
He grew up with dreams in his heart
And strength he gained, getting older.
He left when had come his hour,
Not looking back on what he hurt.
He went far, looking for glory,
Neither holding back his courage,
Nor restraining his burning rage.
Then, of blood, he became thirsty
And those who were on his red way
He destroyed with hasty anger.
To them he was a murderer
But he didn’t care anyway.
He acquired glory and power
And was happy, needing no one,
But strength can’t prevent anyone
From falling in love forever.
Yet, his true love couldn’t hold him
Away from battlefields too long :
He missed the glory of war’s song.
He ran after a foolish dream,
Leaving his pregnant wife to cry,
He went with all of his warriors
And lost them all in many wars,
Against a forgotten ally.
He heard his love was in danger,
But he was blinded by desire.
He let her die and, sad sire,
Had lost everything for power.
His true foes, by this evil mean,
Had wiped him out of glory’s vault.
Despite pain and regrets he walked
And he finally arrived in
A graveyard completely rotten,
Guided by his beating heart sound,
And on a little grave he found
The mouse that he had forsaken.