Note: This poem is meant to be from Cassandra ((an actual character involved in the Trojan war. She was a princess of Troy. For further information, look her up!)) to King Priam.
Blood and Cinders
Lock me away within a desolate enclosure
In a dreary cage of fierce iron and raw stone
To bring relief to your cynical mind of a prognostication so strikingly alarming
That it could turn a pitifully frivolous city blind,
And make their days night, and nights day.
Care not, shall I
For the innocently foolish, the skeptics, the unseeing civilization,
For all shall convey their destitute souls to demise, not dissimilar to you.
You shall cast your hollow heart willfully into the raging death pyre of your feeble realm
As you observe the downfall of your once majestic kingdom,
Sitting upon the grandest throne of incapacity and denying the brutal truth of the prophecy presented.
Watch Troy, the kingdom graced by Apollo, and its entirety vanish into the merciless flames,
And end in flowing rivers of seething blood and mountains of glowing cinders.
'Tis only a fair punishment for actions of temerity,
Nothing less, and nothing more.
