I own nothing,
but a rhyme or two.
I don't earn money,
I write for myself
and, dear reader,
You.
A/N
Another poem. I hope you'll like it.
He was hiding among the enemies
But through the years He had learned
To shield his thoughts and plans
When the mark on his arm burns.
He still knew his tasks
Even in this war's aftermath.
It was 17 years ago when He chose his path.
From the others on his side
He hears nothing but insults.
He can't even be abide,
But he knows he's not lost.
They think of him as a traitor,
A murderous Bastard.
Even if they knew his plan,
He would again be blamed
For turning against his master.
In this dark times
He never laughs.
His eyes fill with tears
Only when he looks
At the old photograph.
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