I Used to Be A King

A poetic story of falling

I Used to Be a King

Written 12/4/15 �" 12/5/15 11:28pm

Born with regal purpose instilled in his bones

the unsung drunken king has forgotten his throne

and settled for known pleasure

rather than chance a go at the treasure-trove destiny

his by birthright

Cast from wise halls

he's made stupidity his drink

and thinks of his folly

only as he swims and drowns

in the crownless swarm that reek of mediocrity

the peers he thinks as “good company”

But wherever he slinks

the ringing sound of greatness

resounds within his fragile shell

the story of a destiny lived well

juxtaposed upon a soul

who knows just how low a soul can sink

The pain of unmet self-expectation

has no consolation

but the wounded king will certainly try

he'll delude himself into believing

his own concocted untruth

and continue as if all is as all should be

A fallen heir to a ruined throne bows his head and weeps

big ugly tears birthed of fear

birthed of inadequacy

birthed of in-congruence with self and destiny -

“it's alright” the sorry shell finds himself lying

But his lies never work

in his core a lion roars for supremacy

over what he's let himself become

in the mirror gazes back a monster

and he's surprised to find that he expected

someone else

Who he could be, what he should be

in brilliant contrast to reality's breathing

speaking

speck of what's left when a soul

is whittled to bone

and cast to the wind

And yet he's still trying

yes, he's still lying

but, he's still not enough

and the bar only get's higher

as resolve shrivels and dies

There used to be a king

used to stand an honest man

with heart and hands

always grasping at something greater

and now, resides a lowly former bit of what was

hardly cause to applaud

never stood here a king.

Author's Note

A personal story, but very archetypal as well