The King's Truth

To fight or flight, one must think. For is it wise to speak truth to backs of the ignorant, Or rather stand by as the racing river stridently does rampage? Impossible it is, despite destruction of his crops, to cease the never-ending . Lies force a watcher if exists maturity- a defiant childish fighter if blinded in emotion. Truth, shall one fight never to stand for insolence of man, Or do bells of justice remain silent as the unworthy parades forth? This is the dilemma- the very crisis- which makes man stop and pace. To flight. To back away, tail between the legs defeated when not, Watching lines of liars’ disciples strutting in robes of cheap fabrics as an imposturous elite. The truth becomes buried in the mind of a fallen king.