WHISPERS OF THE SOUL ||Poetry|| ✔️

Chapter 26: THE CROWN

Chin up, my queen, or the crown will slip,
Its gems so fragile, in their golden grip.
The puppet master warns with glee,
"One flick, dear queen, and shattered it will be."

Feigning ignorance, the queen smiles like a fool,
The puppet master, naive, thinks her his tool.
A sweetly sickening threat he wields,
A reputation bright, as power's shield.
"A little nudge," he says, "and all will break,
Beyond repair, a ruinous mistake."

Evil laughter echoes in the hall,
Authority's entangled call.
Her eyes, vast as the night sky,
Glitter with mockery, rivaling stars on high.
Poor little sheep, steps into the lion's den,
Unaware of danger, believing himself a friend.

The puppet master, lost in his own speech,
Says, "My queen, let's put the crown out of reach."
A foolish move, the noble queen thinks,
"Let it rest on silk, not on the brink."

Dancing, chanting, the puppet master spins,
The queen, amused, knows she wins.
"Alright, gentleman, let's do as you say,
Place this ornament on silk today."

He smiles in glee, but did not foresee,
The crown's weight, too much, too free.
It tumbles, slips from his grasp,
Court breathes fast, ready to clasp.

Before it hits the ground, a graceful dance,
Hands reach out, no chance for happenstance.
With careful moves, the crown's returned,
To the queen's head, respect re-earned.

The puppet master, mum and pale,
Dwells on his mistake, his courage frail.
"How daring of you," the queen declares,
"Had you been wise, you'd be spared."

In a fit of chuckles, sending shivers down his spine,
The queen's command is swift, divine.
"My dear subject, your rashness will cost,
For in this game of thrones, you're lost."

~Sam
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