My stolen childhood,

My stolen lullabies,

All given up for battles yet to come.

The ripples borrowed beneath my skin,

A sting felt upon touching the sword.

I can't uphold the family name,

I'm sorry, I can't continue the line of men.

Their silver-plated honor, a dream I'll never attain.

Glimpse of gray events,

They don't grasp the meaning of a white flag.

They never pick up a pen

To sign the peace treaty.

Youth is meant to be wild and playful,

Yet youth was never understood by them.

I'm a poet of harmony,

But my words are buried alongside them.



#HistoricalEchoes
© Alex M.