King George III x Reader - His Little Dove

Trapped in the room writing

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George locked me in my little suite for about how many hours? 3 or 4. The maids have given me food in secrecy as the king was off fighting and leading men to fight France and Spain. I didn't know why but I was guessing it's a huge war since not many guards are guarding the corridors. To think he would be the one for me, thanks mind i really needed that right now. I noticed my bed sheets were clean and dandy. Poor servants they shouldn't have to be working for a pampered snobby king like George. I groan out of annoyance and bounce on the clean mattress. I really loved how the bed-spread was always perfect. I do actually have OCD. It's a pain in the ass to have. A bad conflict to have with your brain. I'm always cheerful of being in solitude with nobody to molest you or even get into drama. It's a perfect time to write.

I landed my eyes to a powdered white caramel desk with a light feather in an ink slot. I tiptoed towards the brown mixed desk and sat on the comfy seat.

{Credit to Moonshine Noire}

A tenebrous chorus of hushed voices in a
disquieted, uneasy murmur and cry
in outrage over the dystopian reality
not oxymoronic but harshly surreal, tangible.
Tides of tears flood out the cruel sneers
And crude jibes of political injustice and unrest.

A revolution is needed before all is lost to the damning of humanity.

Hear you not the dulling whimpers of the
helplessly lost whose sighs turn to the demons
that haunt their ghastly nights under chilled stars,
igniting a fire to roar, hoping this one will work
to reunite a dying species struggling against
evolutionary mishaps and derailings weakening, then
befouling a once-sacred land to the selection
of rabid mongrels growling for hell at limbo's doors.

A revolution is needed before all is lost to the damning of humanity.

Invisible poverty camouflaged in the urban jungles
Once a warrior, now knocked down and it endures
a harsh climate against the disease that rides
its way to the summit, economizing our lifelines
like common resources, disarming our worth.
And we yell so the wind will carry our echoing voices.

A revolution is needed before all is lost to the damning of humanity.

I took a deep-breath in and out. I never realized how my hand is really hurting until now of course. Before I could leap out of my chair I heard a deafening loud boom across the seas that could be perceived in the lovely palace.