Thursday, October 2, 2008

The Throne

The thickened walls of the castle keep
Bury the peasents in too deep

With no where to go, their waste collects
The state of the kingdom it reflects

The king sits in his polished throne
Sitting, waiting all alone

The queen and jack await to push
The handle for the royal flush

As the king sits grinning unaware
Of the spiraling waters beneath his chair

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