A tragic king who soared too high
To paramount, celestial height,
The ancient chronicles recall
His endless brawl with day and night.
No qualms of age could ever tame
A mind so fierce, a pride so deep,
Demanding ritual words of love
Before his soul could drift to sleep.
But true Cordelia would not bend,
Refusing words of hollow grace;
The bitter monarch sparked a rage
From broken pride and loss of face.
Cast out by Goneril’s deceit
And Regan’s cold, unyielding art,
His torment echoes through the storm,
A howling sky, a breaking heart.
Through madness, shame, and fading mind,
He learns too late what he has done—
The hollow debts his children owed,
The tragic web that he had spun.
He fed the fledgling vipers long,
With all a father’s love and pride,
Only to feel their biting fangs
When strength and kingdom died.
