Queen of Swords

Queen of Swords

He knows, he knows, he knows
that while the music never died
it lies
it lies
at his feet
rising
becoming shackles around his feet
forcing him to shuffle
bowed head
prisoner of promises
promises
of love and golden crowns
promises of forever
that pass
in one endless weeping
sleepless night
old songs
of desire
and fire
being smothered
by blanket statements
of desired control
and finally,
alone
he does his space staring
friends fear for
the sanity
he never had
and in one long, long moment
he realizes
the only music
he ever should have listened to
is the blues.