Rumor has it you’ve grown used to the power you hold.
Sure no one would be able to trample your wooden throne,
Yet for all your assumed power and glory,
Those who you place beneath you have been building a pyre,
Ready to set aflame the kingdom surrounded in thorn and shrubs.
The weeds have grown coarse,tangling themselves through the streams and lands,
Ready to touch the sky at a moments notice.
They circle the grounds; growing stronger with each peasant cast into the forest,
But even among the quiet of the trees and wind.
There are those who agree with your methods, playing for both teams,
It is said be careful who you take your frustrations out on, and,
Watch the words that fall from your tongue
At least in the presence of those close to your heart, for,
Nothing hurts worse than a betrayal from the unsuspected.
The forests come alive outside the shadow of the sun,
Eager to relay the spiteful and hidden meanings behind those pretty words,
Yet, you set your forces high, the walls towering over the mighty,
Knowing the weeds cannot climb a wall made of fire and stone.
But, know that those you set beneath you have ways around the towers,
Ready to burn away excess and grown stronger, anew,
Within the walls you’ve built around your fragile throne.
So be careful of the words you decree, oh satirical ruler,
For weeds can grow powerful too,
And their will can last much longer than a tyrant on a high,
More than the pettiness of the ruler who did not get their way,
So be careful, oh satirical ruler, of those you’ve kept at bay in the winter, for they
Will rise and take hold during the summer, high on the power of the sun,
Who you used to worship. Once the rising sun has set,
The kingdom built on top on trembling leafs will whither and fade,
And the new buds of growth will overtake what is left of the thorn and trees,
Leaving the weeds that you placed to beneath you to try and escape the fiery towers