A stranger in the town of my birth,
 A king in peasant's guise.
 The darkness,
 The heat,
 The incessant buzzing of the air.
 Are these things all that remain
 Of my kingdom, my home?
 A lying monarch
 & the blood stained hands of the Queen.
 The peasant slave girl -
 A princess, my sister.
 I've traveled roads unnumbered,
 But no path was my own.
 I've touched the dreams of other men,
 But never dared dream my own.
 I've heard tales recalled from memory,
 But could never share my own.
 I've shared the homes of beautiful families
 But have never known my own.
 I am as free as any caged beast
 & have been disowned by the gods.
 What care have I for gods?
 What piece of this mad nomadic life
 Was their doing?
 Have they ever given me reason
 To hold on to hope?
 I will avenge my father
 By killing my mother
 & her lover,
 The usurper king.
 Then I shall claim my birthright
 & my crown
 & have myself put to death.


-- KpR²  - date/time unknown (sometime in the 1990s)
-- Inspired by Jean Paul Sartre's play "The Flies"


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