He is a Durin, the heir to the throne
  Capable, durable, kind
As all of his people, he’s carved from stone
  And he leaves no one behind
    He is first his brother’s brother
    Then a son to their mother
    Then a friend to any other
  Pure, is his heart and his mind

A hand in his hair and a blade to his skin
  There is a gasp and a hiss
Captured; held hostage in front of his kin
  How could he end up like this?
    Overpowered, and with ease
    Golden prince brought to his knees
    Someone, somewhere, begging ”please”
  There is a scream; and it’s his

He is a a lion, a full-worthy heir
  Golden; his heart and his mane
He’s being dragged, on his knees by his hair
  Terrified, stubborn, in pain
    Sensing death he’s acting brave
    Royal, treated like a slave
    Slaughtered, falling to his grave
  He’ll never stand tall again

28/12 2014