He is the King

Who did not give a damn about a thing

Treated his ego as it was shielded with immunity

He brought hell upon his own community

Caused division amongst his peasants

His presence was enough to become a depressant

Shiny gold sitting on top of his noggin that isn’t a crown

A foul mouthpiece that talked his own nation down

Enforcing his lousy regulations and rules

Making his crowd look like a bunch of fools

His own people developed a plan to attack 

To knock the King’s corruption very far back

The King packed a punch when it came to this war

Bloody, dividing, and full of gore

Took advantage of his own crowd

Made all of his victims weep for help aloud

The people retaliated with whatever they were capable of 

Such a gruesome battle that could not be won with love

The people put up a hefty fight 

With the King attempting to prove only he was right

With the power of their vocals slapping his ego

The whole community becoming its own hero

Overthrew the vile overload of his hierarchy

Slowly dissolving was his attitude of acting snarky

The King became a peasant who was booted from the throne

The power he once held was stripped down to the bone

He left the throne, melancholy and furious

His body filled with burning envy served with a side of injurious

The King became powerless and a helpless soul

Now no one more has to experience his heart of cold