The King sits on his throne
After another long day of work
Resting
Providing for the people
Deciding for the people
His hand reaches to the outskirts of his kingdom
To call his reign tyranny would be absurd
For who would question a leader who benefits most from their own decisions?
And who wouldn't be happy to have to toil a little more when mistakes are made and his lack of care becomes purposeful?
And when his entitlement to the land that he tires himself for day in and day out means that you cannot question his perfect authority, cannot begin to even suggest discussing his non-existent faults?
For people these days do not want to hear advice, do not wish to work hard enough, are lazy, and if these words come out as harsh when you're trying your hardest, that means you can't handle the truth and no other truth exists but that of the one and only royal Highness.

For what plants grow under shadow,
And what trees stand tall without roots firm in the ground?

What should the King do when the people lose their will and turn their backs on what security that has been offered to them

I sway
Like on a swing
On the brink of sleep
My mind carries me motionless
And when reality calls
It rips me out of my pendulum state
Elevates my heart rate
Claims my restfulness and
Clutches onto the thoughts that I can't seem to lay
And as I slowly pry each clawing finger
Gentle words soothing over
Voices reverberating
The two swirl
Unfurl
Turning to noise
Playing in the background
As I gradually fall back into a cradle
Rocking left to right
And right to left
On the brink
Asleep

I rushed to write a letter
Emotions rising inside of me
I remembered your words
The way they lifted me and saw me
And so I rushed
Pen to paper
Rolled it up
So that my words are no longer seen
Tied and bottled
I gather my strength and throw it into the sea

You were always way out of reach.
But now this sea that sits between us seems endless
The sea sweeping and returning
My words back to me with the tide
I return to read over my words once again
Foam rushing around my legs as I sit
Reading over my letter once again
Unheard unread
Can't help but rewrite a copy for myself
Because even if you never see my words
I'll know what I wrote for you
Know what these feelings are

Without a second glance,
Every step pops.
The rationale of my brain,
Every day hops,
Between the steps that I take,
Drops cling to me,
Before they evaporate.

As the steam of those drops evaporate,
I gaze up at them til they are no more,
No longer in my field of vision.
Pop
Foot down, gaze down;
At the floor beneath my foot.
My mind stops,
Waiting,
For drops that'll settle on my arm once again.

Rock the boat,
  I'm fine
Little waves won't hurt me.

Rock the boat
    I'm fine;
What are a few more,
  I can handle it.

Rock the boat
       I'm fine
   I'm fine...
I can handle it

Rocking
    rocking
   rocking
         rocking
      To and fro
                Overflow-
                      Underwater,­ can't breathe--
               Overhauled, overstretched
             Inhale
          Deep breath
I'm fine...

Be nothing
Feel nothing
Hear nothing
See nothing
Static
Cut.

The hurt will never die
Rather, just temporarily put off
Whether forgotten
Or numbed,
And in the presence
Of remembrance
And vulnerability
How could one's entity
Fathom experiencing anything
But heart ache
As vivid as yesterday,
Last month
Last year
A lifetimes worth of
Sorrow,
Betrayal,
Hurt and
Withdrawal...
How could one's soul
Forget the pain?