The Reluctant Prince

This is a given title poem that echoes the price of power. The imagery is very similar to all of the Game of Thrones scenes… maybe.

The Reluctant Prince

broken bodies lay
battered around the

stone rooms of
a carpeted castle

no sounds or breath
no choking gasps of

life shudder through
those husks

a wooden chair tilts
against the wall,

the surface worn down
memories of feasts

death surrounds her,
faces, familiar ghosts

silenced laughter, frozen
tears, a crippling crown

slopes across her brow
red, stained, hands

tattered, silk, dress
what Prince would

want this?

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