"Stop" - the cry came from far away,
But it said what I needed to hear.
Now it was too late for my son,
Held in my arms. Limp, lifeless.
I pulled his body too me,
The blood staining my kingly robes.
He was cold. Ice cold. Dead cold.
I wept like a baby.
It was all too late for my son,
Though the cry saved those still waiting,
And I knew I should be grateful.
But I could not move, could not think.
I wept like a child for the son I had hated.