Prince, they called him
For his golden robes
And joyful smile
That was hardly tainted by what the
Mockers cried
To him.
Jeering in their desolate souls
For touching the sky
Despite what nature said.
And his star-studded, dumbstruck eyes
Where his exploits grew to amass
That part of him that was quite large.
Prince, which they called him, didn't know pain.
He kept on through the disbelievers.
YOU ARE READING
Part the World
Poetrythey called him a child and disordered for wanting to get out a series of poems meant to bridge the gap between the night sky and the blue ocean. from many people who have seen both and are hoping to change the entire world with words alone. they s...
