>>507028202The Hollow Crown
I wore a crown of gilded lies,
And ruled beneath deluded skies.
With broken scepter, rusted throne,
I called the shadows all my own.
They hailed me once, or so I dreamed,
Their voices soft, their praises beamed—
But whispers curled like smoke through halls,
And I mistook their jeers for calls.
In rags I stood, yet felt the silk,
My wine was water, not of milk.
I danced alone in phantom court,
Where jesters laughed and kings fell short.
The mirror showed a jester’s face,
Yet still I claimed a royal place.
My subjects? Crows upon the beam,
My reign? A long and fevered dream.
Now every fool and net-born clown
Mocks the man who wore the crown.
Their cruel memes, their scornful art—
Each pixel twists and guts my heart.
The ghastly ghouls in midnight’s mist
Snicker, howl, and shake their fists.
Their eyes aglow with ghostly glee,
They chant my name in mockery.
They shriek, “Behold! The delusional lord,
Who claimed the stars and found a sword—
Of tinfoil bent and cardboard made,
A king of jest, of lies betrayed!”
No armor shields from truth’s sharp blade,
No kingdom left, no debts unpaid.
Just echoes in a bitter brain,
And laughter like a falling rain.
I was a king—or so I swore.
Now I’m a tale, a myth, a bore.
A lowly cow they prod and poke,
A walking meme, a bitter joke.
And yet I sit with haunted pride,
Though every dream has long since died.
For in the ashes of my fame,
At least they still recall my name.