Jester

the throne envelops me despite my aversion

a cruel bubble of safety keeping me alive

as it fuels my hatred



tendrils of power whisper through the banquet hall

transmuting protest into riddle

burdening me with secrets

showing me the gears within their spells

as if they know none will believe me



but i believe them

pouring their feelings into me

my mask their sanctioned drain

inexorably unveiling their terror

patterns of negative space

coalescing into familiar shapes



how can rebellion grow

inside an empire of growth

where laughter flows from luxury

i dream of the day i can no longer hear it