It's Ironic That It's Called the Throne

bowed before you once again
i’m worshipping you 
when i said i wouldn’t 

bent in half
i’m surrendering both my dinner 
and my fears

knelt down before you
my legs tremble 
my hands and chin drip

hunched over you
i am obedient
under your tyrannical rules 

there will be no revolution today
Copyright © | Year Posted 2020

Poem

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Mcintosh Avatar
October 6, 2020 at 3:45 PM
LOL... Good poem :) God bless you
Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace