The king
is farther away.
He stands
in the middle
of an isle.
Black rocks
of people
are bowing to him.
He smirks
at all of them.
A smile
that's
taunting
and
wry.
He loves it,
I can tell.
But, he also
hates it,
I can tell.
He hates
the people are
bowing to him
not because
they want
to.
But because
he told them
to.
