Embody Me

CROWN

He meditates with the biting intensity of winter winds,
Calling upon ancient roots to awaken the dormant heartbeat hidden between his ribs.
The lustrous twisted ore atop his head was not meant for idle bones.
It taunts him, metal laced with proliferous poison
Reaching for the tender mass of flesh beneath the surface,
Avarice corroding his arteries, those fragile pathways of neglect.
Roses admire the polished gleam of royalty, their curiosity a blurry image amongst gleaming vanity.
He rotates the confined prison, runs his fingertips over haunting gems and scrutinizes his reflection.
“You were made for me, but I was not made for you.”