In the shire we gloat our glory

It is as if nobody won.

I’d take the first, but not the last

He’s the tormented one.

Furious words coveted our neighbor

Held great disdain for the rule.

Isn’t it irritating when you think he’s a stallion

When really he is a mule?

The stench of the garden did nothing

For the stench within the wall.

I’d say for certain this is a test

But I don’t want to alarm you all.

Chained, but not forgotten

This is such a subtle war.

We fought, we bled, we took apart

What we didn’t want anymore

Both, with a wicked disease

We only had trouble with the glare.

The problem with this story is

I wasn’t even there.