The Tale of Runner

The Tale of Runner:

Have you heard the Tale of Runner?

Her bone-sword cut men in half—they screamed.

Their blood splattered from their severed halves, bleeding 

they fell. Runner took their scalp as prizes; 

those Pale Demons have stolen much from her land.

The grief they caused, the lives they’ve ended

could only be appeased with their blood painting

the green grass black. Their guns have caused her people

pain—her grief has caused her body to age. Her pain

has brought her to her knees; she fights

those Pale Demons who have stolen that which only the earth gives.

They claim that which grows freely for all to take and use—

they kill and misuse the beasts of the field. They spread

they diseases; they rape, they pillage, they destroy all that is beautiful.

Grief consumes Runner as she falls to her knees, the 

pain of seeing her people slain—the blood now on her hands

forces her to weep uncontrollably. As tears filled her eyes, cotton her mouth

her city constantly ravaged by those men with those grotesque blue eyes 

her poor devasted city offers him nothing but anguish—

what is her purpose now? Her bone-sword is dull;

her heart weighted down by the crimes of those Pale Demons.

The Tale of Runner is miserable and brief. It reeks of misery indeed.