The Lonesome King

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A short poem about how people who turn from others are alone.

Submitted: October 14, 2014

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Submitted: October 14, 2014



He sat atop his throne

Surrounded by not a soul

His crown on a swivel

His court long gone

None talk anymore

No laughter echoes through the halls

He is alone

He called his joker

Make me laugh demanded he

His joker replied

There is no greater joke

Than the one sat in front of me

Perched atop his throne

All alone

The crown flew through the air

Passing through his joker

A mirthless laugh parted his lips

The man realized

He was alone

The man climbed out of his chair

Bottles falling to the ground

The remote buried in the T.V

Cigarette ash brushed off

The knotted rope looking so seductive

The king put on his coat

He cast a look at the door

Is he alone

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