Boaster, chronicle, Less (...)

The shy king watched as the fallen cried out in pain, their bodies sick and weak from the frost-bitten, leafless land. The crashies banged against the walls, the sound loud and jarring, while the heat of the demon's anger burned through the sky like a meteor. The boaster proclaimed his anthem, a rhyme filled with zest, as the angel descended from the cloud, her liquid eyes filled with something unknown. The forsaken hoody-wearer watched in silence, as the intro to the chronicle began to play. And in the distance, a crow cawed mournfully, as the ethos of the kingdom was called into question...

The shy king had fallen from grace
He had less power and more crashies
He heard a bang in the sky one night
A meteor was coming with loud and bright

He felt the heat of the fireball
He saw a demon with a boaster call
He tried to fight with his sword and shield
But he was no match for the evil yield

The demon took his crown and throne
He left him alone in the liquid zone
He was forsaken by his people and friends
He had no hope for his story's ends

But then he saw a light in the dark
An angel came with a zest and spark
She gave him a chronicle of his deeds
She showed him his ethos and his needs

She said he was not a crow but an eagle
He had a chance to be noble and regal
She said he could rise from his fall
He could be a king again for all

aint reading allat