Died for sins he never knew,
Died when skies turned burning blue.
Cracked the crown and dropped the glass,
All the nobles fell like ash.
Shadows danced from wall to wall,
Waiting for the king to fall.
Whispers told it long before,
“Lock your gates, and bar the door.”
Name in stone, but marked in red,
Not by him, but by the dead.
They’ll teach the tale with lips of wax,
Of rulers built on brittle backs.
And when the children learn your name,
They’ll laugh and point and play the game:
“Who’s the king who wouldn’t kneel?”
“Who’s the ghost the crows still feel?”
ImpChimp Art 