To Be A King

To wear a crown  
And be a king  
Must be  
A terrible thing,  
I think,  
To feel  
The hopes and dreams,  
The limbs and lives  
Of an entire  
People  
Entwined in  
The simple circlet  
Of gold  
Wrapped about  
One's brow...  
 
To be the first in feast,  
And first in famine,  
To laugh the loudest  
Over the smallest  
Of meals,  
To hold  
The judgment scale,  
To choose between  
The justice sword  
And mercy's harp…
All this
Must be a  
Dreadful burden to bear.  
 
To wonder at one's  
Every thought,  
To second-guess  
One's every action,  
To lie awake  
Each night  
Trembling from  
Nightmares  
Of wrong decisions,  
To wake  
To feel  
The familiar weight  
Of gold upon  
One's brow...  
 
To wear a crown
And be a king  
Must be  
A terrible thing.