I've lost it; my crown
As it falls to the ground
It's just making the sound
Of "boo"s in the crowd
and in them I just drown
A self-proclaimed king
that's been unmasked as a clown
I grew overconfident
thinking I was the best
Rhyming just came easy
It was a gift, and I was blessed
But it kept growing harder and harder
to get the feelings right from off my chest
And I just grew obsessed
I could feel the building up of stress
I couldn't find the right words to express
lost my gift of rhyme, oh who would have guessed
I always taught myself on top
but I was losing to the rest
One of my poems got declined
without any explanations
I'll admit that none of these new pieces
have been meeting expectations
Maybe I've been running out of patience
with all my creations
I seem to have been lacking creativity
when I think and lay down all the foundations
My poems need raw emotion
To be able to reach farther
So I'll drain every thought
I'll even talk about my father
Describe how he'd get drunk
and abusive towards his daughters
While his son was just a coward
afraid to step in as he attacked his mother
I'll talk about every ******* thought that filled with horrors
and all the dread that lingers here and bothers
Maybe what I need is to drench all my rhymes in pain
That's what brought me fame
to slid open my wrist, squeeze the ink from inside my veins
That's what people like
poems they feel they can relate
they say they've felt the same
And again they'll cheer my name
say the king's back in the game
That I haven't lost my touch
that I'm still ******* insane
Then no one will ever doubt
Why this throne has engraved my name
Poetry is not all about rhyming, but rhyming is definitely a difficult skill to master. To rhyme and tell a story takes a certain type of talent that I feel not a lot of people appreciate. I see other poems get higher praise when all they do is say things straightforward. There's no beauty in their line.
This is a poem that was born out of frustration.
Sorry if I offend anyone.