Once there was a king
who was wise and calm
he told stories which where so
existent to bloom coloured dreams in peoples wit…
He oath them to bring out
the stories as a book
And they sat tight for years to
behold flowers from the blooms
It was the day when stories
got published and the copies
endue with flowers…
with an ending.., poles apart from what they heard…
They wanted to point the fingers
but it was locked
They wanted to ran out
but the legs where chained
And His Highness sat on throne with a crown
made up of newly bloomed thorns…
everyone where muted
like it venomed
with a boom
‘Long live the king’
Everyone is muted
me,you and every others…