You're a king living in a solitary castle.
The upsurge of your emotion is nothing but a puzzle.
People reckon that you are wicked and socially irregular.
I think different, I suppose that the both of us are similar.
You adore dozens of admirable ladies.
But I know you yourself didn't like this.
You had your Betty once, unfortunately she disappeared.
Now you're merely unparalleled, your only acquaintance is your beard.
This is why I idolize you Ice King, even if you're just fictional.
With all the pain, grief, and heartbreaks, your life's considered as brutal.
But after all that hurting, you are able to do one thing that others seldom do.
To smile in the midst of melancholy, to laugh while facing the problems too.
A poem dedicated to Simon Petrikov, also known as the Ice King. Peace.
