mini-Bardics entry

POETRY NEWS #4408
Date: 09/01/2013 at 22:58
From: Bardic Blade Galos De'Verres, Daisei of the Hold
To : Everyone
Subj: mini-Bardics entry


The Path

Taken. Taken from the arms of my mother, thrown in to the pits of battle by my tribe, force to fight and claw and kill. All because of a red feathers, red feathers marked me as a warrior.

Freak. Freak was my name until I was 9 years old all alone with nothing but the birds in the sky and tears in my eyes with a cold hole and an empty belly.

A quest. a journey to earn a name to fight for my place to take a path and walk a road.

Galos. A name given, Galos means spirited; in my native tongue it means pity, for all the terror I endured all the darkness I faced I was strong.

A brand. A mark on my face reminding me every moment that I was owned, that some one else owned my flesh and that I was never going to be free.

War. Battles fought dragging on until nothing remained but bloody fields and carrion food.

Death. The blade I used to protect the very people who hated me my blade which was slave to another, created so much death, men and boys cut down painting red my feathers painting red the grass their eyes growing dark with each swing.

Sadness. The broken heart at the lost of a friend the lost hope of the pain that will never end no joy only sorrow in a dark bleak world.

Freedom. Freedom found only in my demise fading as I look in to my father's sad eyes the flames lick my flesh in a perfect release only to find myself alive in a strange cold place only to find myself in a hopeless case, in a time of war and pain.

Water. The feel of drowning as the home I found fell to the sea I awake with the ocean over me the pretender laughing at his gore having created this massive war.

Blood. Blood filling the ground in pools drowning the weak and the good, we watch in horror as the gods fall all fear the doom that faces us all.

Hopelessness. The empty place in my heart created by years of darkness, yet again I find my self in a hole hiding from the demons of the pretender, who broke an already broken body and snapped and already shattered mind.

Light. A shining light pulling me from the darkness like a drift wood in a vast ocean, a new home and new friends let the healing begin, the body mending and the mind too.

A new path lays before my feet all I have to do is take the first step.

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Scarlatan, in the year 634 AF.