by Nick Gisburne
Tormented, drained, the king surveys the room
In reverence he kneels and bows his head
A dismal chill pervades this ancient tomb
Its chambers seal the secrets of the dead
Bewildered by the perils of his reign
The whispers of the palace haunt his mind
A threat to his survival, stabbed and slain
The madness of the king, corrupted, blind
Pernicious rumours, long before the birth
A ceaseless torment, silenced with a knife
And here, among the dead, beneath the earth
He strikes another blow, to end his life
The king who killed his blameless wife and child
Will always and forever be reviled
