I once sat upon a gold throne,
One I grew to call my own.
It was from here that I could rule the land I’d known,
But I soon grew weary of what I’d been bestowed.
The days were long, and the ale was strong;
But, not strong enough to numb the pain of trying to sew my mouth shut
When I’d had enough of the same old touch
Turning everything into gold.
I presented myself in silk robes,
Told myself it wasn’t all for show.
I made excuses for why I could never hold
My heart on my sleeve without turning into stone.
But truth be told,
It was all I withheld that kept me bound in hell.
When your soul turns black as coal, there’s no washing it out.
From what I’ve found, it’s always better to wear a scarlet letter
Than to become a shell of yourself.