Despite your acute diligence of your so
called great intuition. You may also
be in regret, for your lies have caused the
torment, of your abundant use of a
scared limp group of indentured servants. That
quiver under the sight of you. They chat
endlessly about your unruly reign. Fear
spreading like a wild fire, from what I hear.
Who am I to deny you the wiles of
your seemingly crude behavior? Above
All things nor judge nor jury am I thee
for I am just a spectator you see,
but I have seen many things. Many that please
my very own eyes. Burdened with large fleas
I saw them huddled in unique disguise.
Planning, waiting, for your favored demise...
They seem to tire of your clownish ways.
Plans of your death, what a cheer of hoorays!
Don’t think of having a means of escape!
Your precious army, the women they rape
Oh please king you sit there on your high throne
Never even moving a little bone
Passing a blind eye on sights around you
Your people don’t even have a slight clue.
You don’t tell the lords of the things askew
They’ll soon learn of your treachery in due
time. Your smile although charming always feigned
to hide behind it your monstrous disdain
I’ve seen your eyes go ablaze with fire,
the townspeople, just an object of his ire.
But then came the day when no words left his
orifice. Words, lies, no longer spoken,
for their was a revolt against our dear
King, because after that fine glass of beer.
In his ceremonial banquet, while
in our woes, the king never rose to rile
And forebode, for he lay pale, eyes wide, dead…
