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The Fool
He calls out in anguish, he winces in pain, he whimpers so softly calling out to her in vain.
He’s tattered, so broken, abandoned, abused, hollowed, forgotten, forsaken, tormented, confused.
A gift did he give to her, such a sacred , fragile part. Though a play thing she makes now out of his heart.
He wriggles in agony, in darkness, its crafting her grin. She sits absently silent , as he slowly dies from within. A simple word from her lips, it could all be undone, though of all the words she could utter, her choice is not one… should ever roll off her nor shall it cross from her tongue… mercy fir him, oh there shall not be none . He takes every lashing from her attentive less ways, every hit, every bash from her cold, hollow gaze. She knows she sold him every dream that she now takes away. Her eyes cold , see only fault though that none of her own. Her crown so careful she crafts , sitting so proud on her throne.
She laughs and she mocks him, as he lays there slowly dying alone. She knows he loved, her so deep and so true… a glimpse of remorse he'd forgive all she’d done and ever do. He’s just a foolish dreamer , be it a many or a few…. Though the sad truth is so much worse… This fool, one day could be you…

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