The Fallen Prince

The dribbling gold, 

From the pockets of a mongrel,

Street urchins gather,

Pray for the lost soul, 

Pray, does it matter.

The flying queen,

Fairy of the winter's tale,

I beckon, I wait, for your touch,

Do your deed, let me wither,

The flowers fade, the bells toll.

The chimes sing their song,

Winds my mate, as I float,

My ashes on the tender sheet,

I have fallen, the darkness my ally,

I have fallen, betrayed my fleet.

Despair of a lost soul,

I wait for my end to come,

Do come, cleanse me, free me,

My guilt my brother, 

Take me with you, to the sea.

I am the fallen prince, 

The king of my time, 

But a pauper at the death's gate.

Betrayal was my weapon, 

But alas, death tricked my fate.