King of Rags

A morning lie, at night excuse

For sins against my being

But all is well, I tell myself

Wealth and fame are meaning

A dangerous game it is, I play

To clutch for prize, you see

I looked to comforts and never knew

These pleasures greed after me

On victors’ path I follow and reap

The cusp, my passions great

Filled at one and empty at two

A thirst in transience sate

Masters assail on every side

And in every form, they come

Circumstance and dangling fruits

I fall, no power to run

And what I want I never reach

Adapting to every gain

From milk and rags, what used to please

No kingdom can ever tame