Kingsroad

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There’s no such thing as a kingsroad
There is only the path he makes.
No gifts can ever be given to him
There is only that which he takes.
There’s no such thing as the kingsroad
No highway to be named.
For where he walks and what he does
Is the path he blazes with fame.
Made of bone and flesh and steel
In the fires of Hel itself wrought.
Alone walks the king these days
On a road stained with regret and loss.

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