Time trickles leisurely down those trimmed hedges,

Perfectly still and composed in its elegance,

Not a moment too soon, not one

Too slow, yet the longer

It draws on, the

Madder one

Goes.

Alone,

Sitting in

That auspicious,

Renowned hall, walls

Drenched in nine-hundred

Years worth of this same inexplicable

Sense of lifelessness, he ponders on wether

His ancestors, so renowned, so important, truly

Fought a countless many battles only to end up here.

Dull, auburn light shines through the stained windows,

Chandeliers, winding stairways, polished marble,

Eloquent opulence - all for what? All just to

Secure a position so void of humanity,

So malnourished in compassion,

So impoverished in love;

What man, what being

Would ever veiw

Such a life

With an

Envious

Eye?

Born

Human,

Yet live to

Rule over his

Own;

Born to be human, yet

Forced to be otherwise; born

To love, to laugh, to live, yet live

To be confined under the picturesque

Mosaic that was his prison, under the scornful

Eye of the very people he sacrifices for, under the

Pressure of a nation, the threat of countless more, the

Regret, the pain, the loneliness one finds at the top.