Long live the King
He has the best medicine and tech in the world
But he lies still in the best clothes on the best bed
He’s got doctors with no timelines
Men with thick midlines and greasy hairlines
They shuffle through their books then shuffle in a beeline
To the doors with no answers

The women come with youth in their sleeves
Youth in their posture, youth in their gaze
Looking down on the silent man in his silent robes
Is he dead?
No, he is just waiting for you
To wake him up in the right way
The right words and the right moments
Will break the spell that keeps him still

But WHY Why should we waste our beauty and our youth Our posture and our everything For this man, even if he is the King of whatever? But WHY When he would only see us as objects to own Why should I give him everything that Makes me who I am Just to keep him, He who I know nothing of, Alive?