Attila the Hun

Those German eyes had beauty indeed;
behind those eyes, latent vengeance deceived.
The Blade of Mars futile became,
when the sacred vows he decided to take;
and on that night he went to sleep,
besides the one his life would reap.
Another journey lies ahead,
where he went? No one can say.
But if it's down where he would be,
Attila reigns as a new king.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem