The Melancholy of A King

Another Poem.

A king a place he couldn't trace a speck of grace.
If he could win what would he do then after he had to defend the fortress.
Lying when he's laughing, crying when he's mad his mind is sad he forgotten how to be glad without wine.
Trying things moving walls there are monstrous things that only crawl. Right in his head as the queen is laying in his bed he's dread a night that led to a fight.

Blue is the sky he only knows how to cry no emotion to be seen.
If blood was red, if he stabbed you would you be dead? Would a tear shed..would he see red.
In far away lands thoughts of his queen seem more than a dream. The steam is hot one day he was left to rot in the sand by a mysterious man who drank tea.

If you could be a king for free traveling the sea of green dreams. If a king was you would you go insane who would be to blame? There are no words that cannot be said even when you're dead do they disappear?
A king has died today here's where he'd stay. In unknown lands in temples that scream and seem invisible to the eyes.

Silence is the color.