The Fallen King

A girl is taught her father wears a crown,
Her knight, her shield, the sword against her fears.
Yet through the cracks drip impenitent years,
Until the throne and all its weight fall down.
He vowed to fight, yet left me bare, alone–
His whispered lies still echo in my ears.
His hands, once strong, grew distant through my tears,
And like fire of truth now in flames through his throne.

What king forsakes his kin for fleeting gold?
What warrior yields to greed then calls it fate?
Too blind to see the love he should have shown.
One day he’ll face the hollow years grown cold,
But time will laugh–his sorrow comes to late,
For all he lost is all he might have known.