the old adage that nice guys finish last.
you hop right back into chasing butterflies in the garden,
i can’t even muster an ounce of energy to enter the garden.
last.
you want everything to be normal, and yet you keep mentioning about the traitor who dethroned me.
i sit in the dungeons, self mutilated by news of the kingdom i once owned.
last again.
you refer to me as king during diplomacy meetings,
only for me to fall spectacularly from grace. ironically, the court jester became king.
last again.
oh my queen, you broke my heart. i hope you live royally ever after. while i seek strongest chain mail in the land.
Filed under: Ramblings
