Authors note; Hello whoever happens to have stumbled upon this. This was written after reading several fan poems about characters I like and being the narcissistic little prick I am thinking, these are pretty good but I could do better, so I did. Originally I was only planning to write stories on here and I still plan on writing and finishing stories, but I also wanted to show off my best work, which since I am poet not a novelist is poetry (surprise). I don't know when I'll be able to write a decent next installation of "Mirror Mirror" (genuinely sorry for not updating recently) so in the mean time I give you the delight that is my historical poetry narrative thing. Yeah lets call it that.

The Optimist

Your castle is of ivory stone,

mine it is in ruins.

My treasures are but flesh and bone,

your's diamond rings, and silver spoons.

Your glory is restored

if correctly I recall.

But I lift up my sword,

still you let yours fall.

Carved in iron, refined in flame

common blood runs through my veins.

And when have I lost? Never.

My victory is uncompleted,

I do not surrender.

I have never been defeated.

It has been misplaced,

but I have not lost my crown.

I have never fallen

only risen upside-down.

I have never had a heart to break,

so I am always whole.

Its always frozen in this place,

so I am never cold.

You have something at stake,

and that thing is your soul.

I don't give into fate,

I am in my own control.

I have never been alone,

I've had myself for company.

Goodbye and hello,

don't you wish that you were me?

You ride on new machines,

I fly on crooked wings.

You count your golden rings,

I search forgotten things.

Your kingdom has grown

mine has become small.

You have never flown

high enough to fall.

Your crown is made of gold,

mine it is of thorns.

You do as you are told,

I fight forbidden wars.

Your crown it is worth,

more than my life,

but you're staring at the dirt,

I hold my head up high.

Bow when in my presence.

kneel as I walk past,

sovereign of the wretches

king among the ash.

This narrative is written in Prussia's metaphorical view the "I" the narrative refers to is of course himself and the "you" the narrator refers to is his bitter rival Austria.

I would greatly appreciate any criticism, or blatant flattery you have to offer.