I grew up in kingdoms made up of quick sand
Where heroes so rare were in high demand.
Our houses and homes were all pulled underground,
And it seems that our heroes were never around.
I grew up in tunnels made up of dust.
The roofs were iffy but in them did we trust.
One day, a tunnel collapsed with me in it.
When fin’lly I clawed my way out, my mom said I’d get it.
A dragon appeared in the sky up above.
He was looking for some killing that he dearly loved,
But he could not find us beneath the earth
Until a hero arose and from the dirt was birthed.
So I pointed my grey sword toward the blue sky.
Then, the dragon ate me, and with that I died.
He saw from whence I had come and dug up the soil.
He breathed his firey breath, and my people were promptly boiled.