Regicide.

A poem on the people's revenge.

To all those self-proclaimed kings taking pleasure from the suffering of children: burn in Hell. This poem comes straight out of Anarcholeptic—my second self-published poetry book.

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Poem text.

Because you rule this place
by keeping children bound,
we want to slash your waist
and fill it with your crown.
We want to split your face
and drive it through the ground
to let you have a taste
of being beaten down.
Until you spit disgrace,
the same you gave around;
until you’re just a waste
of flesh across the town.

Available on: Kindle & Paperback, Apple Books, and Google Play Books.

Une exécution capitale, place de la Révolution (Place de la Concorde) by Pierre-Antoine Demachy, via Wikimedia Commons.

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Rondeau: His Holy Sins.

(We rage against) The Dying of the Light.