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Poetic T Jun 2014
I see an empty throne
Only the dead sat there,
For they are no more
But bone.
The curse of sitting above others
Those trusted,
But serpents tongues
Do they speak
Gold tinted lies.
Each a plan of their own
Friendships,
Truths,
Allegiance,
All but layered lies.
A long life
Is but a dream.
For the throne will crush all dreams
It is like a ****
It will grow extend its reach.
Suffocating any one close
They who dare to think of a higher place
That which is beyond reach,
I stare at any empty throne
And all I see is
Death
A place forever out of my reach.

— The End —