Transport me to a time where lunatics,
hateful madmen, noble princes and kings
exit the castle, the keep, and the throne.
Undiscovered the country by the Styx,
nestled between an oath and an obol,
drive me across old ferryman who brings
intoxicated fools across; a crone
starving, hungry, lustful for a life, lost;
courage unnecessary, a symbol
of this former life; a bold attitude
veritably forgotten on entrance;
empty of hope, dead souls cannot be rude;
remember, here we forget, not a chance
entrusted underground, we know the cost
despair over past lives hampers the soul.
Count me lucky, I did not wed the prince;
opinions vary as to his logic;
unstable in the mind, he played his role
not unlike a madman, his sense long gone;
trust me when I say he could not convince
royalty of his sanity; toxic
yet sweet, as ergot rye, he was my swan.
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