Your Highness

Executing the realm of beauty, puncturing your torturess soul while the sinister truth exemplifies purity, the kind you lost along the way. You can't see that longing, you can't comprehend that willingness- the deepest form of revenge- success. And with the success, all that surpasses is the crooked unreliable action, a pretense definition that karma is mandatory. It moves me how such a belief holds, totalitarian regime. Your highness, I'll bow to you once more, one more adieu and passing by. But after not one but two steps away, you are no longer existent- like the leaves evaporated by the snagging wind- wrapping its arms around the oak's leaves- sucking out the poison of the leaves, as they drop one by one. Farewell, one final time.