Calloused King

Kicking a dead horse in an existential droop.

The vinyl slowly repeats in a mysterious loop.

What once hurt so badly is now forgotten pain.

But unanswered inquiries in this puzzle remain.


No doubt mesmerized by a rigid rocket queen.

A gaze in wide wonder, something familiar, is all I could glean.

Propelled on a journey with noticeable nuclear thrust.

Her lust threatened trust, then away with the dust, in but a gust.


Did the hasty lady command the peasant to jump?

Controlling his actions with her lovely lady lumps.


Or did the big bad wolf fear he would once again lose?

Making disorganized demands after drinking some booze.


Perhaps the princess desired the heart of another?

Repeating that crushing cacoethes she saw in her mother.


Was she rightfully justified in her idealistic claim?

Evidence then planted to cover up the shame.


Or was it something alluring or lost altogether?

Where reaction ruled with an electric-charged tether.


Sometimes the answers lie in tormented souls.

Devoid of day with darkest despair in the deepest of holes.

Do I possess the courage to face this objection?

Or shall I let it fester with me in subjection?


This introverted thinking, it seems, needs no rest.

It just seeks understanding in a mysterious mess.

The satisfaction of solving such a complex riddle.

May be reserved for kings calloused by the fiddle.