A small hill forgotten in the woods
A round table cracked in half
A lonely place where vows were made
And broken in a different time
All things must come to an end

There he stands alone and victorious
The epitome of the crown
A broken blade held in his stained hand
That once held a vibrant kingdom

Fallen comrades lay all around him
A son who turned his blade red
A common man who took a sword
A knight who burnt with the sun
A man who was wrought with despair
A tactician who turned on his own
A sad child who never found love

He looks behind him with eyes wrought with tears
A small glimmer of hope that maybe
Everything was a dream
But all he sees is a hill
A hill of broken vows and bonds

His heart is heavy
Filled with sorrow
He wishes for a chance
A way to alter this outcome

A voice reaches out far above the clouds
He turns to listen to see
A chance to right all wrong
A chance to exchange
This ending for another

He accepts the risks
Disappearing into the sky
As his broken sword clatters
And the sun sets
Upon a broken kingdom
A broken legacy

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This Poems Story

This poem is about the Battle of Camlann, most commonly referred to as what ended the Knights of the Round Table. Although I did not include all the knights, it should be easy to recognize a few.