A/N: So, this is my one futile attempt at poetry so far. Don't laugh. Read and review please! *does puppy eyes*
The wind whispered softly on a chilled winter's eve
To the people imprisoned who wanted to leave
And the man with the scar hidden under his sleeve
From the knife of the prince of sighs.
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The prince dealt in hatred, therefore such was his trade
He gave little thought to the enemies he'd made
For through all those long years that he killed and he slayed
No one questioned his greed and his might.
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He met a man hunting in the old wayless wood
Who said, "Why do you kill, doing more harm than good?"
But knew that the animals had never understood
That he'd killed them for food and for life.
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The prince grew his tyranny with a heart black as ink
His armor of deceit was to grow link by link
He stole all the riches faster than a blink
So the rest lost, and looked to the sky.
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The night it was lonesome, and the sky it was black
When all the villagers were under attack
From men who played with fire to get what they lacked
Regardless of the poor children's cries.
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Then the man with the cloak half pulled over his head
Who had felt the cold hatred 'cause his brother was dead
Knew he took no matter where his path of doom led
He would make the cruel prince of sighs die.
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The enemy was fierce, but the Bluejay was strong
With a few murmured words, the prince of sighs was gone
So the people were free from the man they'd feared long
Who was known as the prince of sighs.