Darkness is all that is felt.
The halls are silent and empty.
The innards of the black-stoned home,
Are dismal and depressing.
Dead things sometimes patrol.
In the loneliness and silence, there lived a king.
There never was or never will be a queen.
Royal spawn are a greater doubt.
The king sits upon his stone throne,
Brooding, remembering, regretting, yearning.
But all are just sick dreams that taunt,
His angered and sad soul.
An icy hardened heart shielded him,
From the silence, desolation and darkness.
He has no gardens full of roses to,
Brighten his dulled eyes and heart.
He has no friends besides the dead,
No one to laugh or talk with.
He has no guests to add life.
All who dare to approach are slain.
Once upon a time, he was different.
There would've been a beautiful queen.
There would've been beloved babes.
Everyday, the melancholy monarch,
Wished he'd die in his sleep.
He was insensitive yet sensitive.
Even with a new life, only revenge kept him alive.
He would continue to sit and wait.
Endure the company of the dead and,
Joyfully kill the living who hurt him.

Lauren Kapusta

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/king-of-the-castle/