Ran my fingers through her hair
It was like searching through a mine
Massaging all her thoughts
Until the gold we find
We shared comfort with our words
Heavy lies designed
Heavy lies the crown
The king reminds you as to why
Dirty ashes, scattered dust
Dirt blown across the earth's face
The pain filled makeup
This cosmetic tragedy covers up
The world, blanketed in billions
Of ignorant smiling faces
The king no longer smiles
His thrones been thrown away
Along with the dreams he carried
Then buried with the truth, reality
Starke and grim, cold dead ends
This road we walk is not a friend
One day a distant traveler approached
Your grace with a happy look upon his face
The king full of wisdom could see through
This persona, he indeed was not a fake
To which a question was posed
How can one remain happy in all of this misery?
The man spoke and said, I've learned to not ask
Questions I really don't want to know the answers to
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem