A troubled youth can cause
More trouble than one's flaws
His secret anger seething
Wishes to leave them bleeding

Break the staff, kill the Mage
His ascension is hard to guage
Anger unleashed upon his enemies
Leaves victory with weakened knees

Powerful he will grow if nurtured right
Ruthless ferocity will display his might
An evil overlord he shall become
With the will to bow to no one

Coarsened life takes quick hold
His conscience no longer doled
Blackened lumps where friends once stood
The fire burning within calls to crush Good

Images spew forth of defeat bathed in blood
An evil flower that must be nipped in the bud
Armies are called forth to march together
Their confidence easily light as a feather

Quickly they find the emotionless boy
Standing o'er broken corpses, filled with joy
Shouting death against the defiler
They charge headlong into the fire

Steel rings against iron as they clash
Slaves driven forward by Hate's lash
His magic almost expired, the boy fights on
Knowing deep down, his soul is already gone

They swiftly jab swords into his flesh
Rendering the soft bone as if it were mesh
Organs spill out upon the blood-soaked ground
His screams of agony ripping away sound

The boy collapses, his will utterly spent
Forcing back tears as soon as they are sent
He feels his life force draining away
Wondering what his god would say

Men drift over, as the battle is now done
Murmuring soft congrats, their tale is spun
They take the boy's body, and mercilessly sever its head
To place upon a pike, to remember why they had bled

Men drift over, as the battle is now done
Murmuring soft congrats, their tale is spun
They take the boy's body, and mercilessly sever its head
To place upon a pike, to remember why they had bled

Penned by my hand on the 24th of Valnuary, in the year 388 AF.