The crown is heavy.
Hands connected with the fingerprints of blood, the luscious color smiling as he feeds on what you called fear.
Bloodlust and truculence are what you called a monster, He calls a human.
He can loathe and weep but he will never tell you that.
A prince to the throne, what's the purpose when you can be a king? Killing without hesitation, is the way to go.
In the distance, you can see the riches that prowl on his head.
If you want it, take it.
The crown on his head lays lonely as it falls like the ones he loves, he can't be alone.
He doesn't want to be alone, but if he gets too close then it will fall.
The crown is heavy, please don't come near me I will only hurt you.
YOU ARE READING
Out Of Order
PoetryPerturbed. Anxiety awaits those who can't distinguish between actions or emotions, therefore never implying what she thought was important. Animosity. Apart from her balancing on the tight rope, resentment tipped her over and down she goes. Deep int...
