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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required It’s the day of dread The day your false prophets and prophetesses never read to you Or properly prepared to armor your heart from the fear spear now piercing thru It’s the day of dread that all of the real seers declared Today you must take your naked pride, undressed beauty and fame ... Go descend from your high throne, and take the long walk through the streets of the city that bears your name Marching slowly with your head bowed, taking that dreaded walk of shame Your heart fall to its knees hearing the cries of the people ... some compassionate, others profane The throng, lining along your sorrowful path, have been waiting for years to have their say This is their judgment day This is the law of the land, it is the Valerian way! Your imperial guards dare not intervene, for the people they fear will violently erupt and kill you — their beloved hated queen You must soldier through on your own, stripped of your dignity Confessing to all, you cast into the air every one of your secret transgressions Looking up, you see all of the sparrows perched on the church balcony ledge of the Great Septon And the High Sparrow nods approvingly for you to faithfully continue on Looking around, you see none of your staunch supporters bravely stepping in to intercede To rescue you from the pain of the moral bleed Humiliation is a reality you now concede And the ever increasing strident shouts ring out: Shame ... shame ... shame! As they repeat your name, spitting on your royal person with disdain Being pelted with rotten things and rancid words, you mournfully endure your walk of shame Shame ... shame ... shame! You never cared to help the homeless, downtrodden poor Shame ... shame ... shame! The plight of the lepers, widows and orphans you chose to ignore Shame ... shame ... shame! When the famines came, you closed the palace storehouse doors Shame ... shame ... shame! Prophetic fear prompted you to order every male baby killed Shame ... shame ... shame! Incestuous cravings was how you desired to lustily live Five fingers of shame balled into a fist, with which the people pummel you again and again As a rogue queen, you did whatever you wanted to do Cleansing your dirty soul in pure water of faith never appealed to you Near the end of your bloody walk, you see the tall palace walls At the iron gates: you turn to the people, humbled and pleading ... asking them for mercy To your amazement, the yeas over shout the nays Bathed in their forgiveness, you vow never to willfully return to sin again Walking through the fortress doors, head held high, unashamed — you are a different person now ... a crowned newborn woman
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