Within this place, my songs will bear no fruit. Here heroes fade, and dragons choke on flames; Here conjurers and demons own no names, And all the wizards of the world are moot. To once fall here means no new chance to rise. Though all the world did echo with the name, Though deeds were done that won immortal fame, The Fates would still repeat the same replies. Here every power breaks, and legends pause. The lords of Light and Dark stand side by side, Their solemn paladins forget their pride, And, faced with fatal risk, make common cause. Here, Doom and Destiny maintain no sway, And only mortal minds can choose the way.
I rule no legions risen from the deep, Command no weapons larger than a knife. In darkest night, I stay in bed and sleep. I would not fit a supervillain's life. Nor do I rage against a rotten world, Nor seek to breathe the putrid scent of sin. I've sense enough to keep my feelings curled, And deep and cold, drown thoughts they flourish in. I honour clocks and roads, and do not stray. I hold my counsel close — to nothing swear. My fears and dreams are safely locked away Within my past. Not even I know where. But questions haunt me still, and will not die: What was I then? How did I end it? Why?
This is my response to the Daily Post prompt for “Vice”. I suspect vice should be dealt with at the source, if it exists. :-)