The child king

I throw the object of my almighty power 

on the ground.

You pick it up and hand it back to me 

obediently .

I reject it and you bow again .

 In my mind the comedy of power 

is engraved .

 You are nothing,but docile pawns

on the chessboard of  my life .

 I am the child king of the game.

Red or black whatever the color ...

I rip out the eyes of the dolls

I pretend to love .

I could even cry .

 You will only gather the dust 

of your pretenses ...

 You,who have learned to say thanks

for what you are given in return...

 This daily bread that the humble 

praise as they happily climb 

the scaffold ...

 I am the child king who doesn't

believe in your laws ...

 The nonsense of the fox 

in the story makes me laugh ! 

 '' ,Serpent draw me a ship to sail across 

the land of muttons ! ''

 Mum says I mustn't hurt someone.

then I  bawl mean things 

and breaks all my toys ...

 Mum only knows how to sweep

the floor and brings corpses to life...

 I hate the sage smell of her arms 

and filthy lips mummified with past ,

 only chanting the gospel 

of loving words ...

 I am the child king .

with a passion for dinosaurs !

  Once on the throne ,

I would cultivate a garden of flowers

deprived of light and water ,

that I would watch to die 

and put out to dry in memoriam...

 I would carry a gun that never 

lets me down ! 

 I will kill the clown at the school  exit ,

 while shouting : 

 '' Does anyone want to play with the child king ? ''