The Weight of the Crown

The Weight of the Crown

They said the king was not unkind,
just colder than the northern wind.
He built his peace with silent walls,
and never let the kingdom fall.

His son once swore beneath the sky,
"I’ll rule with mercy. I won’t lie."
But crowns are heavy, forged in flame,
and power rarely leaves unchanged.

Oh, the weight of the crown,
it bends the spine.
Turns silver thoughts
to iron design.

Years went by, the realm stood tall,
no wars, no blood upon the walls.
Yet whispers died before they’d grown,
and fear felt strangely like a throne.

One night his son asked softly,
"Why must we choose who gets to speak?"
The king stood still… his voice was calm,
his answer cold, precise, and bleak.

And somewhere deep beneath the sound,
an older echo could be found.

The crown was never made of gold…
it’s made of those
who choose
control.