The Hermit King

The king sits on his throne
The throne sits in a hall
Surrounded by four dark colored walls

No trophies of victory
No pictures of fame
The king's walls are completely blank

He sits in this darkness
Alone by himself
He knows that somethings can't be bought with wealth

He can't buy loyalty
Nor love with his gold
Nor can he buy himself someone to hold

He crys in his sadness
And mourns in his sleep
A dagger to his heart is all he needs

He lies in his bed, his face covered in tears
And his servent comes through the door
Only to find his blood trail dripping on the floor

The servents run and yell
OF the tragic news
That the Hermit King has fallen victim
To his own solitude