The King, His Majesty
A rose swallowed down to the bone
One thorn to slit the thrown
Choked on by a contorted king
Crushed in the abdomen of his anatomy
We now have discovered his reining soul
The stem soon grew from his eyes
His skin takes all control, most of it lies
Picked by her
The Queen, her majesty
He leaves his ground
And follows hers
Hands were pale and cold
All was under her control.
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