Dried Leaves
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a king of bones
on a ruined throne
subjects of dust under his feet
monuments eroded into stone

hollow whispers rustle dried leaves;
the last breaths of things long past
curses blooming round his heart
blood across his withered chest

a rusted crown forgets
on a pile of broken jade
stagnant eyes see nothing
but crimson; golden days

of billowing triumphant gales and
screams of joy and pain
of glorious echoes of steel in the
god-king-emperor’s reign

but now the blood has dried
and steel has turned to rust
so the king joins his country
in the dust

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