A Prince In the Belly of Poor Mens Reality
The walls are speaking harshly of me
They want me to hear what they think of me
I know I’m different from the descendants of their kin’s
I wonder why it bothers them that I am merely being me
Freed to live as I wanna be
They are guests in my territory
Imprisoned by the chains of poverty
Whipped by the lashes of mediocrity
I wish to ignore them but their noise bothers me
Why this misfortune
Here to live in the core of pessimism
I am a prince lost in the belly of poor men’s reality
As self righteous as they can be in their impoverished reality
My thoughts of hope and my words of better dreams
To them noise to be done away with
They are a lot resigned to their reality
A dollar or two at the end of the day
Does just well to satisfy them completely
They do not understand why a prince like me
Would one day wish to be king
I don’t understand why able men like they
Would not wish to reign on their mediocrity
But hey! The truth is that they are they
Meant to gather hey
And I am me
Moulded to be the prince
What’s a future king without a kingdom to inherit?
Unbeknownst to their conscience
Tomorrow they shall serve me
Whereas they toil for today only
I build an inheritance for eternity
I scratch a mark in the plaque of history
Here today, forever remembered
As for them, here today,
Tomorrow as insignificant as though they never were
So please by all means
Let them laugh at me
It’s the noise a prince must perceive
In his grooming to be king
Perhaps it will make me understand
Why there are a million subjects to one prince
Copyright © Wiseton Prins | Year Posted 2011
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