{"sf1_id":629210,"sf2_id":"lmXK28Ne","title":"Death of an Elegant Man","author":"RaiRaijinn","words":495,"posted_at":"2013-12-15T02:08:00.000Z","tags":["City","Dark","Death","Depressing","Dread","Emotion","Evil","Fantasy","Female","First Person","Further Confusion","Harsh","Hate","Heaven","Hell","Insanity","Love","Male","Medieval","Morbid","Poem","Realistic","Revenge","Sad","Stockade","Thought Provoking","Various Species","Violence"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/629210-death-of-an-elegant-man","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/lmXK28Ne","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/19/c4/19c4425b-cb41-40a0-a518-6b1fbd8996c5","description":"A little poem I wrote for fun, Originally it was meant to be funny but my mind went dark.","content":" **Death of an Elegant Man**\n\n**By Rhyne Hentzel**\n\nThree Bells toll chimed from their Cathedrallion perch\n\nThe Gallows creaked that day with their decaying timber\n\nThe Plaza was filled to the brim of the cries of the poor\n\nThe masses scream for justice as you strutted upon those streets\n\nThey said \"Off with his head!\" hoping for an exhibition and execution\n\nI remember your final steps as you strolled in your Sunday's finest\n\nProudly climbing those shoddy stairs that marked your end\n\nYou constantly claimed to be a man of the people til your last breath\n\nThe smile you wore that day was yet the best amongst the rest of the royal crest\n\nI even saw the Reaper wish a kind gest with the rope wrapped around your neck\n\nYour final words were well said \"Tonight, I dine with Lucifer and his guests!\"\n\nIt was delightful view to a friendly face lest to bring gloom to an already grim day\n\nI believe it rained that afternoon as I saw the full moon in the eve\n\nIt was beautiful night despite the plebeians' plight in a desperate fight\n\nStrange was it to hear them plunder your palace that was in a placid state\n\nI will miss your wonderful celebrations held in the Moonlight of your garden\n\nThe Mysterious Masquerades we shared in the parlor without any squalor\n\nThe Bountiful Balls we held in the Great Hall with the calls of our praised names\n\nThe games our children played in the Galley while gallivanting amongst the greats\n\nI remembered the times your chateau was so filled with chitterous chatter\n\nYou understood to be a man of the people was knowing that they will bring his Scythe\n\nYou knew that your estate wouldn't be safe albeit you would've wanted it this way\n\nThey teared away at the Tapestries as tender for your kin's vile tendencies\n\nThey warred for your wardrobes to clothe the kindred of their kind\n\nI pine for hope of seeing the light you imagined all those times watching fireflies\n\nI lament that your life was written off like a musician's final sonnet\n\nYou sang to the songbirds of your sins to repent for your regrets\n\nYet I feel as if God has won a bet that was set in his favor the moment you wavered\n\nA game of chess was played with you in the role of holy pawn\n\nA maneuver that set you apart from Satan's spawn when you donned their ways\n\nIt was the toll you paid to gain their graces in your gaudy facade\n\nYou even wore a mask to avoid basking in their caste's crass cavorting\n\nI found it was rather sporting to see all of them snortingly laugh akin to the boars\n\nThe Humor they spoke was a joke in itself often stuck in a rote\n\nI leave this final note I wrote in retort to your divorce\n\nI pray for you as you adjourn to the highest authority's court\n\n  \n  \n\n"}