_Arya_

He met her in her room
She asked him the truth,
He told her he died
In the Gwalior gloom.

She asked him his name
and what was the game,
Game as she said
he took it a bay.

His name was forged
by the glorious gods,
He wasn't the same
immatured overage.

He was then sowed, with glorious gates
he changed-played with devils
and gave them more rage.
He changed into whisper
a silent caliber.

A one who thought love
a mere simple game,
the game she had asked
the game of hate.

He rose as he dispersed
he was dark as he lingered,
he killed what he was
with change as it bade.

He was just a player
a leader in name,
he was her displeasure
dwelling up his game.

He changed and he shook
Arya: was his name, fame and game.