The Suicide King

A gray beard rested upon his aged face
The lost stranger from a faraway place
He finally returned to his tortured past
Not the first time, but would be the last

He came from a different land and time
His conscience had to accept his crime
Somewhere between a man and a ghost
Haunted by choices he regretted the most

Hollow eyes surveyed the desolate scene
An empty Kingdom where he once was King
The graves an eternal reminder of that day
When he took their lives as a game to play

The disgraced King bowed his head
His greed the reason they were dead
A sword in his hand took one more soul
The guilt in his head would no longer toll.


Photo & poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 06-08-20

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