Crowned in Remorse
I stand atop a large black tower,
Thinking of slights long since forgotten.
While my hate begins to devour,
I sneer down at the poor downtrodden:
Fools who can never understand force,
I feel no ounce of pity or remorse.
A heavy crown bears down upon my brow.
Cracking thunder reminds me of your voice:
A long lost love I now disavow,
Cupid’s arrow is nothing but noise.
My armour protects me from the source:
A petty romance and a divorce.
How dare you offer me your pity.
I am the King: Adorned and Crowned.
Respect the system of feudality,
Or you will find my wrath fully unbound.
Receive my gifts, a true Trojan horse.
My hate for you is the main course.
The Philistine Review 
Leave a comment