I sought a throne so high
I cannot meet their eye.
Hiding behind this magnificence
what remains is decadence.
I stand upon this altar
where one can never falter,
so I put on my mystic mask
and get down to my cryptic task.
Afraid of breaking the magic,
I never show them how tragic
it is when I speak to inspire
it only makes my soul expire.
Oh! How I long to be seen
and say things that I mean,
which will truly be heard
not just be seen as absurd.
I climbed a throne so grievous
I’m capable of being only facetious.
Of the things that I long for,
this isn’t what I asked for.
Atop this high throne,
beside me is ash and bone.
A kindred soul? If only!
Ever cold and ever lonely,
oh, how the crown weighs heavy…