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
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