There Once Was a Man Who Could Win Wars With His Bare Hands

There was once a man who could win wars with his bare hands.

He was a warrior of two faced intentions,

A liar and tyrant,

That started out so naive.

The idea of innocence is all thought of in vain,

When you find out what the man had became.

There was once a man who was given a prophecy.

Three little words, one from each witch

“King of all.”

Now fueled by his wife

Would result in the downfall of King Duncan,

And an army from Fife.

There was once a man who killed his best friend.

A line of kings was the prophecy Banquo was given,

So the man refused a bloodied hand,

And gave the blade away to two murderous men.

“Know Banquo was your enemy.”

Banquo was slain, but Fleance did fly.

Now the man had planned a banquet,

Much before they pronounced dead,

But visions of Banquo did dance in his head.

There was once a man who was told “Beware Macduff.”

It came as another prophecy,

This time it told war stories and warned the man of those who could harm him.

No man born of woman could harm the powerful man,

Now Macduff’s challenge angered him,

So he sent the two murderers back out for him,

And had his family killed instead.

His wife, his babes, and all who those marked of unfortunate descent.

There was once a man who forgot how to fear.

The forest would come to the castle,

A war would begin.

Macduff drew his blade,

And the throne would be claimed.

The man had been slain.

There was once a man who could win wars with his bare hands.

The man’s name was Macbeth.

A tyrant king, high atop his throne.

His name bathed in blood,

And his head on a stake.