Great Poem- A Throne for The Weak

Here I stood, proud like a king; Looking down to the bird with no wing; A boy came to me, said the king is winning; But the boy was mad rather than smilling: Then he gave me the crown rather than crying.

His heart is pure but block by pain; Misery is the question, I kept it dear in my hand; Because the boy gain a pain; I asked him, who’s the one that should be the king; But then he said, only the king know who should be king.

I asked again, who is stronger; Told him to whisper and give me the answer; Is it the one who fall but never rose; Is it the one who destroyed your soul; Or is it the one who own a gold.

The boy kneel down before my eye; And suddenly started to cry; Full of tears, flow through his eyes; He wonder why his blood had dried; Even he knows that his parents had died.

He answered me with a strength on his side; Saying that he always rise; He beat his chest, saying this is his soul; It is stronger than the sword or the throne; Finally, he ripped his clothes, saying I dont need gold for my soul.

After he finished he collapsed and died; Leaving the body with smile and pride; I saw his soul flying free; With a crown on his head bigger than me; Now I know he is the Greatest king, that I had never seen.