The Kingdom is a series of twenty-nine poems. Find all the poems here.
The Dragon in his pride swoops his wings over the Black Fortress,
The orcs in their fear fire their arrows to protect their evil highness.
Please do not get it wrong now, the Dragon is not for good,
But even evil turns against itself, having real friends it never could.
The Dragon takes from the dark lord’s treasury, swiftly and quickly,
And then back to his cave, as too much activity makes him sickly.
The Tyrant rages and quakes, this gold was to fund his war,
In the caves of the Dragon, it is only a bed for the snake to snore.
In the flying serpent’s home, the riches pile high,
Though never to be used, the Dragon doesn’t buy.
Admiring what he has collected, a shiny and elegant mound,
The Dragon will always hunt for more, like a hungry hound.
The Tyrant sends his hosts to the cave, he needs it to use,
But when it comes to a Dragon, not one penny he will loose.
The battle begins with the cries of the orcs,
The claws of the Dragon piercing them like forks.
They fight and they fight, terrible blow for blow,
Both becoming weaker, the violence we will forego.
In the end both wounded, they return to their homes,
With nothing accomplished, but a ground of bones.
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