Clockwork Prince and Paper Crowns

Clockwork Prince
And his paper crown
Glued together with tears and sting.
Never seen, never been, like a day-time dream
Just a has-been.

His resounding glory
His velveteen robes
His hopes and dreams
All exhausting old tropes.

Ducks and toads
Light up his march
Down dusty aisles
He walks all alone.

Our Clockwork Prince
He is brave and strong.
Until storm clouds gather,
Then he is gone!

This Clockwork Prince
Adorned in lace and doilies.
He paints on battle-scars
And picks on his scabs till they bleed.
Scrapes his knees, jumping puddles and ponds
And feeds on your heart, as once agreed.

His unending tomes
On how the world did him wrong.
Our Clockwork Prince,
Sings the same old song.

He is the Sun, I tell you!
A giant among frogs.
The patron saint of scorned hearts
Till he melts into a white dwarf.

You and I have seen him a’plenty
Met his kind by the dozens at country fairs.
If ever he were to ask,
This is what we’ll tell the ruddy old bear…

It’s a mad mad jungle out there
Too many on the brink of despair.
The wild fancy the meek and docile
And the glass ceilings just get higher.

Go home and be a better boy, my Prince
Although sometimes it’s tricky.
There is a moral to this tale —
“Jam makes fingers sticky!”

. . .

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