The Kingdom is a series of twenty-nine poems. Find all the poems here.
A putrid smell can be found hanging harshly in the air,
Coming from a place that has denied ever knowing care.
A place of animalistic intent with the reason of man,
I talk of a place for the horrid goblin clan.
The goblins are cunning but evil and violent,
And in their heads is never a moment silent.
Their victims are plenty all across the land,
But they are also victims of their own hand.
With all you have heard, you may judge them hard,
But sometimes the truth about goblins we disregard.
When goblins attack the town, men take up swords,
The men are rewarded by the town and become lords.
The greatest lord cries to finally rid the town of this woe,
And on they march, equipped with sword and crossbow.
As the lords approach the den, swords in fist,
They are met with the most unfortunate twist.
The goblins quickly overrun and take them within,
And now the lords are twisted and share in goblin sin.
For goblins were once men, and men they can be again,
A battle won not with the sword, but only with the pen.
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