Navalny

The light in the boy’s room turned off with a click 

And for the rest of that night, it would cease to exist. 

With a long stride the King moved from e8, 

His fists clenched, with incredible hate. 

He made his way across the checkered floor 

A motion he had done many times before, 

Moving horizontally, vertically, left and right 

Eventually he had the bishop in his sight. 

The bishop had listened to the cries of others, 

and had sparked a roaring flame in his followers. 

The king knew this flame had to be smothered, 

He did not care if he was discovered.  

He made an advance, 

And with little hesitation took his chance, 

Went on the bishop’s tile 

And gave him the deadly vial. 

But then the King stopped, 

As the boy let out a cough, 

A sound which woke the pieces around him, 

Who saw the poison the King had given. 

The bishop’s followers rushed to the bishop’s aid 

They shouted and shouted  “what a mistake you have made!" 

But he had done what he had to do, 

And he was the King and could do whatever he wanted to. 

Luca Grittini