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Tell the children of the wind,
of their hero in ocherous.
Rose the flag of justice,
on the land of our kin.
He won as no brute.
A night he owned for peace,
a king, a queen, and witness he.
When sky golds, his hair turned blue.
"Rejoice!" said he,
"for your king has deceased."
"Mourn!" said he,
"for your queen's ashes in her urn."
Still, we were saved.
His fight not in vain.
The new ruler of our kind,
gave him the gift of tempest.
Tell those who own richer land,
of a warning tale from skies.
An angel, his heart so grand.
And a rat, more a glutton than flies.
Our prologue began with the rat;
peeked on windows, doors, walls.
Lasts of our bread he mauls,
turned like a pig; he fats.
The angel descended from the mountain,
his palms shone brighter than ever;
on his cradle, his former vessel.
His presence lifted our burden.
We offered the head of the rat;
gift for the crystallic angel.
The land shook, for he, was grateful.
Divine walls build, for us, he passed.
Tell the hopeful travelers,
of a classic tale from ancients.
Red lone wolf; fell into derangement.
Yellow riding hood; smiles like no other.
Enemies; they were not.
The wolf welcomed her company,
so the girl; small like a bunny.
Long last; they were not.
Cliché be this one day,
both lost their playball.
Found it in a lion's jaw,
mistooked for a prey.
Regret was the wolf to trust
the girl running alone.
By he, Forest's king dethroned,
faster than thunder he ran.
Tell your friends and companions,
of twinning fire and ice,
thought of fates like dice;
landed luck on none.
Eternal burning flames
fought ashes in Rome.
Quelled envy; overgrown,
one trophy unclaimed.
Perennial ice cage
held the winter's heart.
Melted by summer's warmth,
love; no longer strange.
Though one shone brighter,
he still burn.
Though one been happier,
he still mourn.
Tell those who cry on the streets,
of Mother Nature's child.
His mind non-defiled,
his mind non the rich.
From birth marked a royalty,
living a life in childhood.
Pardoned all not understood,
laws be imaginary.
Shadow's Grim opened
his woe teary eyes.
Fairytales; no more lies,
blank canvas he painted.
Sea of Aster blooms,
on his friend's grave,
know not they forgave
his unwanted wisdom.
Tell the learners and teachs,
of heaven's shining sun.
With prideful head he'll stun,
no star he couldn't reach.
Twice to thrice he might
close his eyes and let
his core dim to rest,
blanketed by the night.
Thrice to quarce he might
open his heart and let
feelings to his head,
humbling his far sight.
Once, he stopped thinking.
World crumbled in his hands,
on dark void he stands,
god's diadem turned him king.
"Hear me,
killed two tyrants, it was me.
Hear me,
left him for power, it was me.
Hear me,
damned her with trust, it was me.
Hear me,
watched them burn, it was me.
Hear me,
froze her in name of love, it was me.
Hear me,
listened to his wish, it was me.
Hear me,
fell to my heart, it was me.
Hear me, hear me!
If only i had a mirror!"