Fame is such a funny word—

Used so sporadically

That even the most reclusive souls

Turn round to look at me.

It’s not something I brag about

It’s not something I want

The death of all I’ve ever known

Comes back to sit and taunt.

I sit on this uncomfy throne

With orders in my hand

But remnants of the fight and battle

Still lay upon the land

He fought for all we love

Tried to divide and conquer

With quiet now, the only sound

On the chair rests his daughter.