He once felt like a king. But his heart fell onto the floor by pouring his love out to his people. For he felt that things must be given in order to receive. So he continued to pour his heart out until he could do no more. And his golden perspective soon became nothing more that worn iron. Thus being, he felt that he could not ask for help because it would make him seem weak. But he knew inside that he was weak. That he was a pig, a glutton. That he was nothing more to his people than an actor changing roles. He felt that he had played no impact to his people's lives. Truth be told, he felt that he would seem too self consumed if he had asked for help. He knew that if he did his people would never look at him the same. So he decided to hide this feeling. And tried with his sharpest dagger to carve this dreaded thing out. Yet the knife was too dull to cut deeply into him. Thus he fell to the floor in a ****** mess of sadness and pity. He felt that he could do nothing. And nothing could help the king with the "golden" heart.