As you gaze upon my misanthropic words, and take a second to contemplate the mindset that took the noble and made them the enemy inside the world created to serve them, know that my words are not fatal,
know that this isn’t how the story ends but is the part of the story that needs to be retold, to be re-written and held up as a template of how self sacrifice isn’t the gesture you would hope it would be if you don’t die on your own sword,
Kindness is the silent killer in a kingdom looking for bloodshed, A champion having vanquished everyone in front of them inevitably turns on the kingdom that had provided the platform that offered them the riches,
A symbiotic relationship lost in the corruption of selfishness of one and the willingness of another, the lessons learned of giving away all your power and then wondering how you lost your throne,
Just know that all kingdoms can rise and fall and I will ascend to a throne again, and these words staining the parchment of my very core will help guide me,
I’m finally become the cartographer to my own happiness, never question how the map was drawn just know that once the ink is dry to lose yourself again is a fools errand, you are the tailor that binds together the seams of your story.