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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 25, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 25, 2016



My horns will roast, my tail will point to the sun

So I think

Next, my skin will feel no more and I'll be one with the flame

My new boss will give job new missions to be accomplished

Or so they say

By the time I get my first rank I'll be so roasted and rotten

It wouldn't matter anymore

Warrior, a warrior for the King, a fighter with lessons to be avoid

Menacing will be my new duty

Duty with a harsh crushing melody, wrath of need, need of seeds

We all blame

What a shame, do I have to play this game all over again?

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