I’m a king. Crowned under the jurisdiction of thou called the Mighty, the Almighty. My coronation was an affair of stars. My reign is a tale of a champion.
Consistently I conquer my fears and impregnate her with good cheers. My life is like shifting gears, it took me to a distance that found you. In a room of three crowns, I’m the peak. Your pick. I’m in you.
I’m that brave in you that makes the rave. I’m that essence that holds you on at the dance floor and melt your limbs to jelly on a cold night. I’m like a petroleum jelly I keep you oiled up through the harmattan, richly reserved for work and good walk.
I’m like your lantern in the dark, a certified trademark of your warm spark. I’m your Kent Clark, your superman. A glowing reminder of your warmth.Your forever doberman.
I’ll rule your addiction with feathery caress and wear your intent like a crest. I’ll be your knight; who gallops through the field on your request. I’m be your speed dial like I am an emergency. Your royal majesty.
I am a king but sometimes I must admit the crown is heavy. It’s like my every move attracts a levy. I’m imprisoned in people’s popular opinion, my voice an echo of people’s views which are never in high definition of me or you. My voice lost a dying echo of the past.
Even on my sickbed, I still feel my strength, the aura that termed me a man, your man. My queen, as I journey through the halls of the underworld, I shall still walk majestly without any equivocation of doubt for;
I am your King and you milady shall wear my ring.