Poem: A KING WITHOUT A CROWN, by Andrew Woodin

Spawned within an ancient crypt,
Hatred wrote your cyrillic script,
Putrid mire clenched its grip,
Forged by rage, you’re ill equipped,

Megalomania displaces blame,
The hunter who hunts such innocent game,
You’ve lost control and sullied your name,
A land that bleeds, your only claim,

A vice on freedom, you ignore their cries,
Such wrath invites the carrion flies,
Plagued by pestilence that never dies,
A murderous purge upheld by lies,

A king with no crown takes no queen,
The wicked jester is how you’re seen,
Monstrous inside with hubris so green,
Evil so black composes your genes,

With nowhere to run and nowhere to hide,
They muster their courage, they rally, they ride,
Blitzing through forests, they valiantly stride,
Countrymen fighting now side by side,

Their howls converge to sound the alarm,
Furious, you watch them take up arms,
Their freedom costs a mountain of harm,
Yet impervious to sin, their Animal Farm,

Anchored by truth marks the arrival,
And hope begins to seed their revival,
Heart’s the key to their survival,
With a leader who leads, he has no rival,

You weep as his torch spurs the fight,
His valor so bold, such intrinsic might,
A common man turned valiant knight,
Slaying your darkness with his light,

You cowardly bully, you hang your head,
A charleton who sobs from under his bed,
Reduced to tears and full of dread,
For soon they’ll sing, “the tyrant’s dead!”

Author: poetryfest

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