The king sat upon his throne
Announcing ideas in the gentlest of tone
The people disagreed, and they fought back
But aggression was something the king had lacked
They rioted with pitchforks and torches
The king saw them yell out each night on their porches
And eventually, they set the castle ablaze
The king fled without even being fazed
He found the kindest people under the trees
The opportunity to build a new kingdom he had to seize
The palace could prosper with the right support
Unlike the old one, which could only distort
So he built with the people, leaving his mark
Until his eyesight started to go dark
He woke up in his old, burning palace again
Surrounding by the sound of illogical, angry men
He realized his prosperous castle was only a desire
“It was merely a dream,” he thought, as his skin lit on fire.
This is my 10th poem, written on 2/15/23
