The battle at the north pole

.

Under a cold, starry heavenly vault

Treading on old, icy land made of salt

Lies your body, my dear child, immobile.

Regrettably, your heart was so noble,

Regrettably for we had to cross path,

O destiny! How cruel is your wrath!

So young a life that you have made me take,

Such bloody trail that I leave in my wake…

A hundred years, no, perhaps a thousand,

Far too early you were to ever hope

To clash with me head to head and to cope

With my power, to not meet a foul end,

You may be strong but you are full of pride

And ignorant of the ways of the world,

Like a lion which never stained its hide,

Logically, events have thus unfurled…

.

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