[ WP ] He had no arms or legs . He could n't hear , see , or speak . This is how he led a nation .

The lands were dark, and the people poor. Slavery bought the world, the rich ruling the poor. Wars erupted, blood bathing every inch of the nation. People lost hope, gave in, leaving the throne open. Through this open throne, they suffered. 
 
 Through this open throne, he was born. 
 
 He grew, his kindness unlike any other, suffering the same as his kin. He brought light in the time where the sun did n't rise. He lifted the spirits of his brethren, giving them the strength to fight back. Blood turned copper, drying upon the dirt, the green finally flowing, pointing to the sky. With this will, he lead the peace. The nation, not saved, but tortured, lost. 
 
 He was given the throne, and refused. He left, still leading the nation. They followed, losing him in the fog over the years. He remained, as legends, tales around the fire, as stories, each given their own version. As old as time, he lived, though gone. 
 
 He had no arms or legs. He could not hear, see, or speak. That is how He lead a nation. 
 
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