05-07-2011, 09:38 PM
You were conceived in passion.
Just before the fall of your Camelot.
Your birth was met with bliss on tap,
King Midas filling his challis and drinking you in,
intoxicated with infinite pride.
The first born, the only son, of an only son.
Our father becomes immortal on this day, able to live on, in you.
King Midas's boy Prince, cast in gold,
preserving a perfect genetic blend
of both he and his queen.
You and light share so much in his eyes,
the sun's reflection off your cheek,
will illuminate the way to your Camelot,
where the Kings darkness once kept the path hidden.
He believes that you were kissed by God,
with such a beautiful and masculine face,
full of so many expressions, all true.
Evoking random acts of kindness,
by the softness in your eyes,
you brought with you smiles of legacy,
keeping in mind grins from nowhere
are not accidental.
The King DID smile upon you,
his golden boy child,
knowing nothing of wrong,
you will never have a need to know of it.
I was conceived for procreation,
his highness wanting a second son.
I arrive in the shadow that follows behind you,
to the great disappointment of the King,
into the Kingdom, a royal girl child is thrust.
My birth was met with obligatory congratulations,
forced bows and crooked curtsies,
our father excepting them with a false show of pride.
Forged from Brass, I'm not cast in gold
by the Midas touch of the king.
Only looking the same when polished,
I am left to tarnish, baptized
in the salt water of our mothers tears.
Second to be born, into a second class.
With a silent grace I except my position,
in the shade of the sun that you've eclipsed.
The Queen DID cry upon me, her baby girl child,
my skin made of armor infused with Brass,
I'll have to be stronger in integrity than Gold,
because although I know nothing of wrong,
I am forever destined, to know nothing but.
Just before the fall of your Camelot.
Your birth was met with bliss on tap,
King Midas filling his challis and drinking you in,
intoxicated with infinite pride.
The first born, the only son, of an only son.
Our father becomes immortal on this day, able to live on, in you.
King Midas's boy Prince, cast in gold,
preserving a perfect genetic blend
of both he and his queen.
You and light share so much in his eyes,
the sun's reflection off your cheek,
will illuminate the way to your Camelot,
where the Kings darkness once kept the path hidden.
He believes that you were kissed by God,
with such a beautiful and masculine face,
full of so many expressions, all true.
Evoking random acts of kindness,
by the softness in your eyes,
you brought with you smiles of legacy,
keeping in mind grins from nowhere
are not accidental.
The King DID smile upon you,
his golden boy child,
knowing nothing of wrong,
you will never have a need to know of it.
I was conceived for procreation,
his highness wanting a second son.
I arrive in the shadow that follows behind you,
to the great disappointment of the King,
into the Kingdom, a royal girl child is thrust.
My birth was met with obligatory congratulations,
forced bows and crooked curtsies,
our father excepting them with a false show of pride.
Forged from Brass, I'm not cast in gold
by the Midas touch of the king.
Only looking the same when polished,
I am left to tarnish, baptized
in the salt water of our mothers tears.
Second to be born, into a second class.
With a silent grace I except my position,
in the shade of the sun that you've eclipsed.
The Queen DID cry upon me, her baby girl child,
my skin made of armor infused with Brass,
I'll have to be stronger in integrity than Gold,
because although I know nothing of wrong,
I am forever destined, to know nothing but.