no poem, no poetic justice

You will be saddened or shocked by the ending. MASTERFUL!

Daydreaming as a profession

He kept coming back That was his only skill Respect is not something you can possibly be born with. The children of kings and lords should know this but most don't Though this kid who kept coming back he was no one's son A vagabond His body bony in all places no meat under the skin A skin that had all the colors from pale to yellow to blue to crimson to pitch black dirty scarred sore and something that looked like bone peeking out of tissue He got beat up every time he came to the fighting pit behind the tavern Never won a fight against those well-fed, bulky sons of farmers and blacksmiths and butchers with puffy arms and wide napes They fought mostly for respect and the money was a side prize But the bony boy came only for the money and he never got any But…

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