Exiled

I sat and squandered my pennies on clarat. Hoping for a better day, amid the squabbling of day to day life. No better chance, it was not about the zeitgeist and movement of the day, but a gut feeling of being sick of the conditions I had found myself in, I would not wish it on me worst enemy, I found the strength in my body to return to claim the throne like my forefathers had and melancholically failed, for the time was due, for revolution and death with success, not waste away fighting at ghosts that haunt me like spies.