What Would Seem

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As the accusations come 
Kings, it has to be said, foresake kingdoms. .
 
Men crowned by glory feel in the blood
Hidden thorns. Some splintered raft 
 .
In the flood of a false dream of power 
Careening fast through disasters
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That leave the countries of self warped
And torn. In the abandoned palaces
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Men and those much less than men
Kiss the shadow. Obstructed light 
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Becomes daggers as pillars conceal 
What goes on. Where the privileged once
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Reclined, there is now rebellion from
The cellar. It is storming the gates 
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And blood spilling. It is warping the end 
Of each song. Sex is presidential perhaps 
 .
Making every victim fresh subject 
To those weighed and wasted 
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By an unwavering need to belong. 
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No man is king. 
 .
Their reign can last but a moment. 
Some indulge just to taste it;
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A sense of royalty constructed 
By a form of descent and dead tongue. 
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David Erdos 2/11/17
Illustration: Claire Palmer
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