He's a golden
Carbon-copy
Of his father
Carved carefully
With features
Held together by corrections
Of his father's scarred form
He's a statuette
Placed on a regal throne
And he's swimming in his father's shoes
Drowning in excess
Air
Floundering like a fish in
Silences
Until he melts down
Breaking morals at a heated glance
From the ever-present crowd
Liquid trophy
Evaporated base
Finally the crown fits
No gaps

For guilt
No space

For introspection
Just another mold man
Passed down through generations
No room

For reconstruction
No place

For good