Crown of the Daemon

red is the blood fresh dripping from steel bright is the fire hot stinging to feel cold is the grave of he who was king dark is the future that hangs on a string brave is the warrior taking up arms sharp is the blade shiny sleek it alarms bold in demeanor and bolder in tongue die here today? he is far too young! horned is the crown corrupted by men short is the peace when the daemon is dead strong is the power on top of his head long live the king! nay! the daemon again! a cycle rehearsed through the poets of time the bad king is dead and the good king arrives but we are but mortals and imperfect are we corruption slinks in like sap from a tree