when fear was king

when fear was king, we gathered in our millions, 
to tell each other just how great we were; 
we owned the army, had our hands on trillions, 
and though, yes, death and tragedy occurred, 

we royal ones, we understood in grandeur 
that this was now the best of us in charge; 
and even if our crowds were full of frotteur, 
this was the smallish price of living large. 

when fear was king, we knew and were not silent: 
we stapled to our thumbs each word and phrase 
that made us pure of heart, if rather violent, 
yet out from out unfavorable phase 

when someone else was king, or queen, or ruler -- 
out selling fears we could not call our own -- 
how sad we've lost the world of our complacence, 
when we could idolize a putrid

throne

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Beleaguered Servant

Owen Servant is an online poet working in a style that's been described as "compulsive". In real life, he is an actuary, because being a poet wasn't unpopular enough.

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