They say I wore a crown of gold
With diamonds set in stone.
But it wasn't.
It was copper,
Painted yellow till it shone.
Plastic rubies, bright like poppies
Sat upon my brow.
They lined my face with false impressions
And stung with every bow
Of trembling subjects before my throne,
Murmuring burning praises.
The fear of tyranny so shown
As they hid their sallow faces.

Finally a slight young girl
Saw through my thin disguise.
She brought with her a pail of water
And poured it in my eyes.
The crown, it rusted.
The people I trusted
All slipped away from me.
And my scepter,
My protector,
Fell before
My now-bent knee.