My brother
We would charge the enemy on broomstick stallions
Holding high our aluminum foil swords
Saving the planet from unspeakable endings
Safe within our cardboard armor
We sat above the world on the peak of Mount Tree House
Watching the people below us
They were like ants scurrying through the grass
We were gods deciding their fate
Now he was a king resting upon a porcelain throne
No head for a crown
Only a twelve-gauge scepter at his feet
Wrapped in a blood red cape
~Arnold Bailey