Death To A Foolish King Poem by Jordan Bessler

Clenched fists as the drums of war approach
Each man readies his soul for the wretched and foul
All but one
He stands with graceful eyes, armor torn
Only his sword and bow are on his torso
A prayer he takes
Let all but one survive
As he dashes off to the flank
The war drums sound, coming closer
Each man breathes a little shorter
The drums stop, the king comes
“Stop this foolish attempt, there is no victory to be found”
All but one say yay
All but one, say yay
The one stands before the king who demands his audience.
“Art thou the one to strip your armor? ”
And the one says,
Yay