The King

I treat him like he's royalty,
like he's upon a throne.
I kiss his toes,
his head and nose.
I tell him he's deserving.

I treat him like he's holy,
like an angel from above.
With a crown of gold,
wings to behold.
I tell him I'm not worthy.

I hold him high,
I bow before,
I try to fill his plate
with more.

I treat him like he's royalty,
but then he strikes
with lightning.
I love, yet he says to me,
"Stop.
I'm not a fucking king."

End