True Nobility… Grander Than Reason, Brutality Humbly Takes the Crown

I journeyed through midnight

And the denseness of the wood

From one end to the other

(Damaged)

Yet I still found the heart

To notice that the colors

Of the leaves were one

Week late of changing that year.

And on the deciduous path I walked,

I noticed the hoof prints of the strongest male deer in the forest

And I’m surprised that I recognized him by scent.

So I began my sudden mission

(Self-assigned)

To track him down (to his knees)

And I quietly paced through the dead leaves on the ground.

My revenge had just begun

Though I knew I had not the backbone

To finish what I would start

(The deed would be done,

But the motives would change)…

One half

Of the night

Passed by

Until

I found that stag alone.

And when I did, I ate his image with my eyes that had been fasting,

Fasting for days,

Just waiting for this moment.

And when they were filled, I only watched longer,

Longer until they watered with the need to blink,

But I couldn’t.

Too beautiful to purge,

I could not look away,

For I knew that his image would be gone from my memory

Forever

Unless I followed through.

That stag,

He stood so gracefully noble

As he feasted on the grass that was his,

Or so he thought.

He should have known that these grounds belong to me

(Pray for his soul).

Yet…

Upon seeing such beauty,

Such power,

Such pride,

I questioned my reasoning, greedlessly,

As I hid,

Not breathing,

In the dead leaves in the soil.

The deed would be done,

But the motives would change.

And they did.

Quietly, I revealed myself form the leaves in which I hid

And my delicate work began with the sound of bones breaking.

The deed would be done.

Though I was never a radical,

It’s easy to get swept up in your own soul.

To cleanse myself in a blood (boiling) bath,

Brutality became a part of my genes that night

(Imprinted within my children forever)

As I skinned the stag with my own bare nails,

And took it’s skin for my cloak.

(So soft, make it a part of me

Just knowing it’s his…)

The motives had changed.

Wearing his flesh and his bones makes me clean.

I stood over the body

Of the stag when I finished

My work and said a prayer for his soul.

A prayer I was sure would go straight to the earth

Even if it was carried by the leaves themselves.

So I stood

And I placed

The top half of his skull,

Antlers and all,

On my head

(It was all still covered in fur).

And the rest of his skin

Just naturally fell

So perfectly (haunting)

Around me for shelter like the grand robe that it was

(Fit for a Lord)

But still I wondered if I was worthy to wear such a piece…

So from there, I continued my journey

From one end of the wood to the other.

And still I wore his crown.