Poem Two

There once was a man who told twisted tales,
And he told the king once that he’d be impaled
As his people didn’t like him and thought him
A disgrace and couldn’t wait to see him replaced.
The king understood but never minded.
 
The man told his tales and the king gave him gold
And the poor man walked all the way home, his house
Was on a hill, about three miles high, and the walk was
So arduous that each time he cried, his legs would be whipped
The soles of his feet charred, as the dragon underneath was
Emotionally charged with a hatred for the man and all humans
Alike and any time one came upon the hill it would impose its
Terrible might.
 
The man made it home to his undesirable wife and they made
Love into the gloomy night, half-hearted screams and quarter-
hearted orgasms led to another uneventful night, even a muscle
spasm.
 
The couple woke up and went about their duties, the
Wife asked the man what he thought of her truly, the
Shook his head and rolled his eyes then told his wife
He loves her to the end of time. She heard it before and
She'll hear it again because marriage is death ‘til us part
Except, in this marriage, death never comes so it never ends.
 
The man left the house and raced down the hill before the
Dragon could wake and attempt to kill, he traveled the village
Telling twisted tales and collect bronze, silver, and gold and
Other times a drink of ale. The times were merry and the nights
Were dark, the crooked and hated appreciated the man’s art.
 
He stayed for the night and told stories of hell, reflecting the
Crooked-hearted mentality into the bar so they saw themselves,
Detailing the struggles of hiding from the king, smuggling drugs,
Food, jewelry, and other things. Pillaging a village, taking over the
Throne and enslaving new lands that pirates call home.
 
The man left the bar and returned to his house to discover a
Fire that needed to be put out. His wife stood outside and she
Had the bag of coin, at least the house is compensated the man
Thought while it was being destroyed. He travels up the hill,
avoiding the dragon, and when he got to his wife
asked what happened. She was broiling the soup
that he liked so much when the dragon came and
burned everything up, the man could forgive the house
going down but for burning his soup the dragon dies now.
 
He charged into the flames and emerged with a sword he hadn’t
Used since the Great War. He charged down the hill with fire in
His eyes and the dragon prepared to kill, about time. They fought
Into the morning and with the rising sun, the man killed the dragon
And the battle was won. His wife cooked the meat and they went
Around the village, feeding those in need and giving coin to the
Crooked.
 
The village ate well, and the man was celebrated on the same
Day a coup happened, and the king abdicated. The man was put on
The throne in the king’s place and he and his wife ruled the land
With a fair hand for the rest of their days.

Tell me what you think in the comments! I read and reply to all of them and welcome feedback for improving my stories, poetry, and insights. Thanks for reading!

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