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Rated: E · Poetry · History · #1510409
I wrote this after reading a description of a legend of Glamis Castle in England.
Not Our Glamorous Little Boy

Hunters creeping closer to the forbidden bridge
They're there flying their towels and starch white...
I never told
They noticed the difference
It's hidden in the walls like a frightened glorious man
Its birth was a mistake
It's hidden in the walls
It's heir to the fortune forbidden it
The fiend
It's right has been taken
The flying towels are not starch white now
They're red...no, they're black and white all over
Perfectly clear, losing their colour
Everything losing it's sight
The sight everyone saw

I watched the man
The boy
Not our glamorous little boy

He brushed my cheek, then left
Out the window, he nearly fell
I heard her scream and ran
Ran, ran
To the guest room window with it's thick walls
She was deathly white and oh, so far away
She carried a bundle in a starch white cloth
I was mesmerised by the white
White light before me
Almost blinded
Blind like the hunter with the many eyes
The many windows
Hidden in the walls
Looking for the room that never existed
Strathmore would be pleased
He is a clever soul
Hiding the heir to the fortune
Forbidden him

The man
The boy
Not our glamorous little boy

I felt sorry for the boy
He was lonely, all alone
In his sole prison
Venture out
Ya know ya wanna
Ya gotta, ya hafta!
Tell 'em ya secret
You won't be hidden like some creature
You aren't
Let them know the truth
Let them know the difference
The secret
Let the world know you are alive
Show yourself
He's shifted out to the overworld
Walked out at night only though
An accomplishment

From the boy
To the man
Not our glamorous little boy
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