I’ve got a kingdom on my head-
a monarch and a servant swell
and behind my tearful stare- a court of treacherous begins.
A thousand years the system stood-
the reign an iron fist
And broken only by the space a blinking eye could fit.
Waging through the throne-like state
of slipping certainties- to find a home,
a standish point
of sane deformities.
In my head- this royal house
I creep on vengeful step
to not disturb
the rightful heir
to my rotting heritage.

Nora Templin, 12.01.23