He drops his bomb and calls it a feather
Gripping tightly to his rugged leather
A king of his castle, of north and of south
The worst of intentions crease a dour mouth
He sips at his courage and spits from the parapet
His voice echoes through halls like a blaring trumpet
The queen cowls, tears veil her soft face
A palisade of loathing separates their space
Absolute power drips from his brow
Eyes like lightning, striking a bough
Creaks, cracks, defiance, and spite
The king does not pardon, in black or in white
She braces, erases, knights herself with adrenaline
The spear finds its mark like a dose of medicine
Impaled, curtailed, the king gasps a breath of contrition
The reign falls to its knees, Hell's latest acquisition