walking down narrow congested streets
alive, choking with their abundance
shadows of new born lovers,
adorn the age-old walls.

the king walks the streets with his queen
for they have no chariot,
Yay! pauper kings!
their castle is yet to be built.

broken dreams of a failed royalty
prick the insides of their soul,
like shards of broken glass.

torn snapshots of moments forgotten,
a rockstar's scream is their music.