The Heir has arrived
For peace, he once strived
For them all to survive
He came to them with steady feet
Weapon in hand, he would not cheat
The sound of cries, so very sweet
Not him with eyes of crimson red
Could speak his mind, a sense of dread
A single step removed his head
Not her with eyes of emerald green
Not even she could have foreseen
The crushing blows through her screams
Not her with eyes of orchid plum
Could comprehend the rhythmic thrums
With her heart, her body numbs
Not him with eyes of sapphire blue
Not with his glasses, knocked askew
Not with his soul, at one point knew
That he would not come through
His power reigned in times gone by
His name lurked near those who died
“The Heir is here” they chanted, why
Macabre were their cries
He has lost all, but hope is there
His father, friends, he cannot care
When some can only feel despair
His satisfaction is unfair
The Heir has arrived
For peace, he once strived
Alone, he has thrived
The Heir has arrived