A man wearing an anxious crown
Throws back with withered thorns
The indignity of hope scorned
Must have a courageous play
To be once more adorned
His hopes as fragile as pencil
Under great pressure
Bending at the point
Of almost breaking
He takes a swig of heady liquids
Rising the spirits with his hand
Set out for a journey
Looking over the peoples land
His mind now deep in reflection
Of how his hope and optimism
Slowly grew into his flailing crown
Now is the moment to return
The curtains are pulled on the stage
One error has the potential to destroy
What he has crafted with single heart joy
His feet begin to move
At first wacky and unprotected
But with his heart projected
He steadies his feet and walks out
The light shines and this
Is his time