"...fuck the past mother fucker, he's the shit right now..."
His sword hand regained at twice it's strength
Calloused by training...stained from blood now dry
His old clothes no longer fit...he is a sight
His hated mirror tells him to smile...at most a smirk
From truth of all he sees behind him...and all that is before him
Unseen by masses, he revisits old scriblings on even older walls
Quietly restoring mind, body and soul
His throne is broken to bits from misuse and recklessness
He sighs, he smiles...he cares not
His new throne sits in his chest
Beating steady, strong and true...with life
His castle has no ceiling nor adornment
Held together by broken stone and line...it's home
He now opens his hands to find roses he once tilled from earth
As they painfully appear through vein...from love
You can't see his crown now, once easily torn off and discarded by friendly foe
Cannot now be destroyed or held by mortal hand
Watch him...
~Apollo
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