There is no other crown in this throne
No attack of the clones
Because I stand back here alone.
This poetry is a stepping stone.
One rock in the building
There is no block in the ceiling
No clock if you awaiting healing
Because a king without jewels for his head.
Is nothing but a tool who is dead.
And to be a thing who is ruler over the unsaid.

It must feel like the loneliest being yet.
But I can handle life without breaking a sweat.
A vet, whose peeves are just pet.
I am all set to believe life without regrets.
I just would not want to get that in a tattoo.
You say bless you when I speak at you.
Excuse me because I might need a napkin.
Because this poetry is so ill that I don't know what happened.

You cannot have the throne without a lineage of royals
Just like you can’t have water over the bridge to toil.
It would be leaving the best in the fridge to spoil
People still try to get under this to rant and rave and troll.
But they don’t know that I’m one of the bravest soul
I may be on the ropes but its just suspension.
So when I get off there is no more tension.
And all these rumors have no foundation so there is no mention.
I take the crown and I don’t know where to put it.
Because the crown is too small and doesn’t fit.