A Prince of Fools

by Aylee Jones

A jester’s job: to entertain
You point and jeer and smile
You mock and still I must refrain
Long live the king a while!

You want my head upon a stake,
You get my mouth instead
My wit is quick, but false and fake
Prepare for what’s ahead

What jokes you make against my chest!
Oh, two can play this game:
Your mother made the biggest jest
As she conceived your frame.

As double-faced as coins of gold,
As malleable too
Your back is growing frail and old
The graveyard beckons you

You spare no words of kindly tone
For any subject here.
You care for no one but your own
And even that is mere

This “gracious” king extends no grace,
His throne berates me, too.
But crowns are naught but empty space
A cage you grow to rue

Without the crown, you’re just a soul,
No hiding from your vice.
And once your name is on hell’s scroll,
Alone you pay the price.

But when I look into the jewels,
On that abysmal crown,
I see a mirrored prince of fools.
I could do more than clown.

“A jester’s job: to entertain”
Is that my only fate?
But what if I’m the one to reign?
My king, you’re much too late.

For though a fool I seem to be,
I be one of your own.
Beware your son, for I am he:
Your heir unto the throne