My take on the homeless prompt, was not expecting that I would write this at all. Late night writing magic? Just spent a while googling Mongol culture before I penned this down, to add a little authentic touch to my imagination.

 

You laugh at me today, oh young nobleman

You laugh at us and our funny savage ways

 

You grew up with a hard roof above your head

I, in what you would presume is a flimsy tent

The icy winds were my roof

You grew up training under careful tutelage

I was born with a blood clot in my hand

And fought my first battles in the steppes

Soil and sky were my teachers; I was trained by the best

You grew up eating wholesome hot meals

On hard days, I survived on game meat

The predators themselves have fed me their strength

I may be a nomad

 

But I am not homeless

This earth is my home

And I am here to reclaim it from you

And tomorrow, when my army crushes you to death

I am certain she will be pleased with my gift