Like a rock

Solid is the unbending view of arrogance affliction
seeing walls of reliance made of iron will,
never noticing the cracks created by mars in mind,
insides turning cold from the shelter created
that only serves as a prison.

Sitting upon a tarnished throne,
wearing a crown made with silver ear muffs
to drown out the sobs beyond the walls,
never gazing towards the light or horizon
inventing life according to only what
penetrates the brain's illusion.

Day after day spend dawn to dust
in the simplicity of stalwart routine
proudly claiming it is victory and blessing
proof of reward for diligence,
ignoring the murmurs from one's closet
where one hides the skeletons of failings.

Little quakes come from circumstance's tremors
Paper Mache throne droops
shuddering the spine,
falling into a crevice created by fate's shaking,
ego bruised, pain streaks in sorrow's strokes,
climbing back upon the throne,
never truly feeling secure again.