His reigns will tighten right around your neck
His eyes will falter in all the damned ways
You’ll tremble in a great fear
and then he’ll fade away

His madness will rage like funeral rites
Not long and he’ll be raised like transparent kites
He won’t come back you know
In all of your lifetimes, that day it’ll snow
His army of headless men, they’ll sit on a pyre and pray
Go on then, may you have your say
One day this castle will touch down in its ruthless glory
The mad man will have his pride
But we will have a story.
– Momina Arif

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