The fallen monarch
This is the tale of the fallen monarch,
eyes as wide as sky, dreaming of things pure and true.
An uncrowned king who fell before he could rise, whose dreams rot away before his eyes.
As he looked out to the field, now scorched and bare,
A flicker in his hand caught his stare
He thinks to himself who could have done, and wished this werent true,
But who could have it been if it wasnt you.
For if you did not burn the field that night,
If you had not listened to your weak defeated mind.
Despair swallowed you and took everything whole,
then returned to pick apart what remained of your soul.
Now the sun has set and the dust has cleared,
You have nothing left to fear,
For you have burned your kingdom down
You, fallen monarch – oh dont frown.
Look upon what you have done.
Hear the cry of your fallen sons.
Bask in the glorious burden of what has become.