The King of Nothing

A solemn tap and whisper warms the winter air.
Only his heir had long gone, the night turned dark and cruel.
So to be sure they are alone,
A ghastly sight of his highness rises from his throne.
Which stands quivering, quaking; neck unfit to hold the crown above.

Then, from a voice which bellows louder than Homados,
Chunks of frail stone fell, eluding something tremendous.
“Oh be you wretched king of nothing,
Fall from grace and down to hell!”
And on the voice’s last breath, the earth began to swell,
Hellish waves of terror arrived, as the castle heaved and fell.

Rugged earth and rotten corpses tore maliciously at his side,
Being dragged to hell is no joyous ride; for those whose heart is filled with hate.
No sympathy for he who died.
Only rejoice for those who he had left behind,
So horribly distraught to be near his side.

Through blood, betrayal and doubt,
The king, a swindler, fought for his crown,
By starving the people of his home, so he wouldn't go without.
From fat head and high power, the king’s knights did so as he ordered,
Causing destruction, deprivation; to all they were marauders.

“Those who fought with me have now turned against!
Be gone to you who has lost their loyalty, feeble minded and fickle handed,
Betrayed me without a sense of doubt!”
The king's soul defied the thought of death; still clung to a hopeless belief.
That god would save him, yet it was god’s hand who cast him into the devilish pit.

What is life to be without his crown?
Choking and dying, lifeless is his soul.
Life had so ingloriously taken its toll.
So the angels of Thanatos ripped him from earth,
And brought him unto death.