The Other Guy's Mourn Poem by Kamal Prashar

As it broke to a storm in the night
In a wrath of plundering River's head
Behold ye sire of a lightening sight
A tempest's path was walked less said
Mode of stealth stayed on its height
He craved a morsel of his daily bread
"My Lord, to you is sworn is thy servant's plight
Spite' his modes and attires bled"

She never heard, alas prayed all lone
A change perhaps were wished of good?
Syllables of a beak well said and shone
No Robin was there nor a scent of Hood
Her peak of will yet laid all prone
"O Sire! Albeit must not but to you
I should Spite' my One's days were blown
Ye know of a shade my shaft lay could? "

The One
"O beings of flesh and shimmery gold
Likewise you stay a resolute said pun
Shadow to light in the streets so bold
For a sake of man thy will be done! "