He fills the chalice with poison,
The prince was called to accept the crown;
The kings men gathered around.
Adorned with purple robes of royalty
The prince smiles familiarly;
The guards watch with loyalty.
He approached with trepidations,
A concerned look appeared on his pale face;
His father warned of bad temptations.
The squandered youth,
Another moment of adversity;
The old forgotten truths.
He throws the crown in callousness,
The king does not hide his disdain;
The prince just as blasphemous.
The king sits down on his velvet throne,
His cloak hanging loosely on his shoulders;
Looking weary and worn.
He takes a sip from his glass,
The poison taking over his veins;
A prophecy of his death from ages past.
