Uncrowned
Wisdom cannot count him down,
he's cast his lot for pennies.
No shadow cast his tennet crown,
by death he's lost so many.
Wicked is the space he gives,
to share with those about him.
Without the wish to share his soul,
his father cannot crown him.
Blood that cannot cross twice over,
keeps deep the roots of Kings.
All that found what knowledge brings,
aren't granted anything.
With every cross he's forced to carry,
lives weight has got him bound.
He's not the pride to be the King,
his father keeps him down.
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
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
