Many have thought
That fights are done with nothing
But weapons and swords.
And, respect can be gained,
Through an Assembled Chair.
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Those so-called “Victories”
And, the silly flags
Excuses for nothing but murder
And to claim the possession
Of just an empty land.
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Your stone-to-the-core heart
Might as well be mistaken
With your hand-held
Valyrian Steel arm.
Cold, sharp, and dence.
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If only weapons could tell
All the stories of desires and spells
If only, they could sing a song
A cacophony of Ice and Fire.
But, we will never differ
The beaten from those who conspire
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Is it really difficult to know?
To tell who are the heroes,
And who are the foes?
Does it help to be able to
Hear the three-eyed ravens caw?
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In the cold nights we wander
Counting steps at ease.
All those passing nights,
While our souls freeze.
Begging for death to creep.
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Slowly, the soldiers get released.
In the mid of the longest night.
Makes us mistake the red,
For the blood or for the fire?
When did death become so warm?
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To give up, is sometimes
more difficult than to fight.
Thudding, Thumping, Squishing.
A crowd of one purpose;
To count the murdered corpses.
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Worst of all, when shame
Is to be called with a new name.
I may ask, to whom shall we hold
Hatred toward the most?
The king killer? The brutal betrayal?
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I may not forget that child
with nothing to believe but false pride.
Regardless, there is a lot to say
About a Queen stupidly mistaken
Power for pride.
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Shall we call those with power blind?
Like a deity, breathing fire
Through a thousand child.
Are we to call this glory?
Or an episode of ungodly fury?
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It happened upon our eye
A game of who gets the most “Aye!”
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While some cry their loss,
Others fly away with a sigh
But one, forces his heart a pause
And, with no mercy
Stabs the one,
That means the most.
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Wow what a poem!
So deep and thoughtful,
Gives hope to the hopeful,
Like the Battle of Waterloo,
Or Scissorlips’ lyrics of Rishloo,
Dragon glass killed the White Walkers,
In the end war prevailed,as did the Stark-ers
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Oh my! Thanks for the creative feedback 😁
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This parody poem sums up how I’ve been wrestling my confusion so well. The GOT series had so much more it could have explored, but they wanted to end it. As if, the scene production with the coffee cup was any indication…the crew was ready for it end, too. This poem is so appropriate to fill the void of “Game Of Thrones ??? WTF?!?…” moments.
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I’m glad I can participate in filling that void. Thank you for the thoughtful words.
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