The King Poem by Iain Prior

The king awoke from his slumber,
And yawned hiss sleep through happiness under,
To begin the new day like the last,
Alike the days previously past,
Viewing his kingdom from tower on high,
Centred in blissful gardens he sighed,
Beyond these walls one day he must fly,
For fear of his fate of living a lie,
His soul in the balance with unholy alliance,
Through a deep sleep of unwitting defiance,
His kingdom a fruit so sweet in the centre,
That shines from within his unholy defender,
And lights the horizon of a dark eerie silence,
To a place in his soul so stagnant and cold,
His people so feeble with misery untold,
His fathers before him through hard work and diligence,
Where blinded by site to the kings peoples plight,
Expensive their taste his soul in the purse,
One day he must pay for their decadence and lust,
The peoples champion a would be defender,
His soul amongst others who stole from the lender.