Swept on the shore by the light of
the silver moon's glaive
Creeping of
dawn through the streets
in the rags of a slave
Once I was lord of this
kingdom from city to sea
Now twenty years past the townsfolk
are laughing
at me
Crouched in the hut of the swineherd
I don my disguise
Faced
with the kindness and questions
I meet them with lies
Dirty and
smoke-stained I'm all
shriveled flesh, gnarled limb
Touched by the hand of
the goddess
my eyes become grim
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