He unchecked ego thrived, without restraint,
so that he thought himself grossly attacked
by all of those who, he believed, had lacked
the talent that he claimed; this was a feint.
He was an unrepentant murderer;
a despot who thought that he should prefer
a hundred throats implunged to the sword's hilt
before any should learn of his gross guilt.
He died alone, surrounded by his court,
who breathed a sigh, collective, of relief;
not knowing that his son, a different sort,
would bring the country to a greater grief.
His soul was stained crimson, the bloody yield,
of the last English King's death (Bosworth Field).
Starward
[*/+/^]