The sun’s rays bless your eyes by reflection of the Silver Dam, yet the blaze to your dismay grays your gaze never to rise again.

Blinded by the beauty, if that phrase gives it credit, for your merit, the Dam brought you woe for your addiction. May you never gaze upon another, the wall forever stands with conviction.

Blind man has come of your name and you come before the king, asking for his jurisdiction to tear down the wall and demand shame for all involved, it bring no aim, only pain, strain and affliction, you kneel with zeal and describe the terrible depiction.

Arose the ruler and he couldn’t be crueler, threw the blind man into his keep, stand would many band before the monarch, his soul dark, each did fall and in the dungeon crawl.

And so one summer day, at the break of morn, the king did go see for himself. His eyes darkened once and then twice more, sweeping with his sword he swore a war, woe there be upon the land, the king is blind, and you may find the price will not be kind.

In his wrath upon that day, the king tore down the Silver Dam, and on his return his knight did say, if he may, that people lay, in droves before his gates, dozens drowned, dozens dead, with sealed fates in dire straits.

He was not blind once, but many times, a king of waters, who gave his people up for slaughter, even his daughter did leave him be.

He’s now alone, on his throne, can only moan, and wait, resigned to his fate, to listen for his very own crow.

~~~~~~~~

> This was for a small-town competition gonna update with the results later

Seems I quite enjoy[a] writing poetry Maybe because I can actually finish the thing and don’t feel bad for it being the length things have to be in order for them to get published in the time I can spend on them It also often takes into account how one would read the text, which is a huge part of the experience yet often overlooked in common prose

[a]