My throne near the top of the willow tree
where I could oversee
my kingdom that resounded
with mournful train chords
and springtime robin red-breast
Thin the veil between worlds
Of retrospection cursed not blessed
It’s like a perpetual bloodstain
With solidly placed blame
Thats removed quietly with disdain
Where “It’s just how they are” to
Invisibility of me to an entire crew.
But I’ll not allow their foolishness
Not in my kingdom where I am best
Where I’m more than bone deep
Better than the company they sheep.