The masses revolted,
They’d had enough,
The castle door bolted,
The siege would be tough.
He ruled with an iron grip,
A reign without tolerance,
The city ran like a ship,
He lacked a conscience.
Castle breached,
Alerts screeched,
Guards slain,
Throne burnt,
King in chains,
Crown spurned.
The monarchy over,
The tyranny ended.
The wind whistles,
Through the empty,
Halls and corridors,
Of the castle built on sweat and blood.
© Michael Moorcroft August 7th 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem