Tempest of feathers, infliction of the mind
Each a thought half formed before taking wing
Creation of a puzzle, construct consigned
to the sky with others, in chorus to sing.
Roaming the storm, pursuing a lost throne
to become the king of angels , to claim to be home.
Take him where the angels fall, before he calls
A semblance of hope to liquefy his crown.
Let king of jesters walk tall, subjects enthralled
At the one screaming in despair he won’t drown.
Lashed by roots of fear, juxtaposed to leaches
that are those claiming to harbour divine.
Energy sapped, by the demon that preaches.
The root chained to mountains, against the incline
Lost in feathers, pursuing counterfeit thrones
Can a King of false Angels, claim to be home
Take him where the angels fall, before he calls
A semblance of hope to liquefy his crown.
Let king of jesters walk tall, subjects enthralled
At the one screaming in despair he won’t drown.
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