What is it about crowns that makes us love them so?
The pretty jewels, the aura's glint and glow?
Is it the materials from which they're made. That add to our attire?
Or a feeling that will never fade? The power they inspire?
Is a crown that's drenched in blood still worth applause?
He's young but thanks to him we have less gauze.
They had big plans, they needed someone strong.
His plans were bigger, now he won't play along.
The blood trickles down his back, he wastes no time in mourning.
The innocents will come and go but a new enemy is dawning.
Always another. Never enough. A crown of thorns to prove he's tough.
He doesn't want security, he longs for power.
He counts their footsteps, hour
by hour
by hour...
What is it about crowns that makes him love them so?
He made it himself; any who don't bow will have to go.
YOU ARE READING
Marbles (Poetry)
PuisiA universe that's sealed away There is no night there is no day Do you think if I smashed them on the floor Then they would become something more
