The Chosen One Retires: A Poem

Forgive me, lands I loved, you must realize
heroes make poor keystones.
No prophecy told you I would solve problems.
The Dark Lord is dead. I believed
all peoples must come together
once I overthrew the Shadow,
forgetting their past strife, only,
you waited for me.
You wanted me to forge you together, laminate
your skin tones, languages, beliefs
to forge my Sword of Destiny.
But swords reflect people, not we the swords.
You waited for me to fulfill the prophecy
you wrote.
The Dark Lord was killed
by these strange new folk in suits,
and they’re too complex for me.
Here’s the problem: you waited for me,
but I never existed.

Say something, darn it!

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