Do I play the king well?
(Is the crown transparent
my ego in reflection.
Is the golden key to my kingdom
strapped to my heart;
majestic or stealth
to my intentions?)
Is it now
that I accept nobility
more than before
or am I not the hierarchy
proposed by my hands?
I know of this:
A villain, I feel
wearing my shoes.
I come to terms with my misery
by holding my apathy
and lie
by a showing of my teeth.
I court the day, with magic
for it knows little of
death
that silently, purposely
guards my reserved moment.
No comments:
Post a Comment