it was whispered, implied

they couldn’t have lied

there on your own 

no one sees your crown

 

your ideas are rich

but nothing else is 

born at the wrong time

the monarchy in exile 

 

the favorite rallies 

the mirror 

gets dressed early 

leaves in a hurry 

 

the favorite is always 

holding their tongue 

ready in their cheek 

just to be wrong  

 

when favorites encounter 

one another

identity’s verified

a change comes over

 

dropping weapons 

armor creating affronts 

that seem like 

games of a child

 

in reality 

how long can it last

dreams are their 

natural habitat 

 

in reality they can’t 

meet the expense

of all those ideas 

floating free in their minds