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Rated: E · Poetry · Animal · #2238605
A poem from a wife of a cruel king with absolute power.
Cold, cold, cold
Like winter's thick frost
Is the body of the man I hold.
But my warm hands can't defrost
A heart so cold, cold, cold.

Wife to a black King,
Dark as a rook.
Talons that, cling, cling, cling
Hard and cold as a hook.
His crooked fingers to power they cling.

But I alone, like wife, in an empty cage.
Empty behind cold bars, behind iron bars,
Caged but I make myself free, this is my stage.
In the window of my eyes rule only the stars
When I, all alone, dance with all the rage

As dour days drag slowly on
His power is iron, it will never bend.
As dour months go on and on
Winter gets colder, colder, colder, to no end.
Never ends, my life drags slowly on
Through the long live reign of the Black King
To absolute power, his crow-feet will always cling.{\font}
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