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THIS POEM IS A METAPHOR PERTAINING TO CHILD ABUSE.
I remember knocking all the king's horses,
and all the king's men down.
I was young and the queen was mad,
Because I was still standing.
Never had I felt so strong,
My method of tactics was genius.
I broke the kings pattern,
Every move he made, I would move better.
He would slide to the left,
I'd lift myself up and lean to the right.
I'd watch myself,
But I was still in the game.
The King became obsessed,
He charged forward.
I pulled out every move,
I tortured his senses.
My sword struck him,
When he least expected it.
He fell hard,
And all of his horses too.
I bathed in the victory,
No King tonight.
I never wanted to,
No never, ever, fall in love with you.
Even though,
You wanted me to.
Copyright © Vickie Hurtt - Thayer | Year Posted 2022
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