Dear Fourteenth Prince, the youngest of all heirs,
Sole daughter to the Eighth Queen of Kakin,
The last fruit of your father's lewd affairs,
You're born to empires stained with blood and sin.
The beasts of brothers hover in this maze,
While sisters fall and rise like wretched gods.
No matter where you turn, the ship's ablaze
With wars where you are destined for low odds.
Your eyes see traitors as mere jesters still;
Your ears hear deathly groans as lullabies.
Pray soundly sleep once you have sucked your fill
And dream inferno into paradise.
I hope this voyage ends with your ascent
Toward a realm with no pain or dissent.