false king.

small puffs of blackened smoke;

words of false wisdom, he spoke,

a paper crown upon his head,

a king of fools and lies that spread,

a tongue, razor sharp and quite crude,

and eyes that render your skin nude,

in an arid face of wrinkled skin,

and creases that hide his every sin,

dressed in his ceremonial rags, 

a limp leg behind him he drags,

his mind is empty, his thoughts are rare,

yet look into his eyes, you would not dare,

he mourns the days of the never-was,

days of kingdoms and made up laws,

walking, leaving dust in his wake,

till legs are sore and bloody feet ache,

stop he would not, until he has found,

the fair kingdom to which he is bound.