Poem: Dethroned

A faint gleam of moonlight
reflects a smidgeon of the glory,
long forgotten,
like the crown left behind.

Empty sockets gape
where gems once lay
in mindless abandon
(but never precious
in the wrong minds
and the wrong hands).

Cobwebs lie in a tattered mockery
of the locks once adorned,
straggly lengths discarded
in a final apathetic insult.


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