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When I move, the marble tiles ring,
I have my orders,
I cannot disobey,
He faces me, His cruel helmet down,
His steed moves towards me,
I cannot move,
My feet are fixed to the ground,
He towers over me,
His black charger pants, It is a war horse, Distilled hatred spills from its eyes,
He draws his sword,
It is ebony black,
Like his armour,
Like his steed,
Like his heart.
I stand alone,
Painfully alone,
I am enemy.
His large head turns,
I cannot flee,
Like a white rabbit and a black hawk,
He watches me,
I desperately want to run,
But I have my orders,
I must stay,
And die.
I wonder will it hurt.
Will there be a fiery burst of
Pain,
As the blade bites?
Or will there just be nothing,
Like a candle in a breeze,
I don’t want to die,
But,
I am not important,
Asjhhfieuhcasbalone I AM NOT AN INDIVIDUAL alonedkvsdiujvsdnv
I have been ordered to stay here,
For a strategy, for a tactical advantage,
For those I have
Never met,
Never laughed with,
Or known,
They have not known me,
Yet I die for them,
The blade begins to sink,
It cuts deep through shining armour,
The snow white tiles stain red,
And so goes the life,
And death
Of A Pawn.
- by Yokai Orochi Revived |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 05/17/2009 |
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- Title: Of a Pawn
- Artist: Yokai Orochi Revived
- Description: In chess no-one cares how the pawn feels about being sacraficed. This is a memorial to what I consider to be the bravest chess piece.
- Date: 05/17/2009
- Tags: pawn
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Comments (1 Comments)
- Jeca066 - 05/18/2009
- That was cool, who knew a pawn could have so much emotional sacrifice, I thought this was a very interesting concept, I thought you did a good job.
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