I am lord of the ruins,
for, in that all the kingly
desires led astray a path
of noble disposition
and pursuits, made to level
them-an empire of fruitless
flame, my name is ash on wind

Come see the lament, two cents
a head, behold the laurels
metamorphosize to thorn,
and amaze at shoulders torn
in bearing revolutions
which seemed a worlds weight,
yet, being a pea's breadth
were merely the bells of jest!
Watch the wicked course of fate!

Tilling the soil with simple
and, all the same, aspirant
feet brought me to long believe
no matter what conditions
or inflictions taken of
understanding, I would
have final reprieve

Bear witness to an angel
soiled in his earthen thrashing!
Just think, you could pay for dreams,
or buy the once in lifetimes
opportunity to see
the portent of divine waste
as maggots chase him to feast!
Two cents is all that you need,
to see fools dancing to bleed