The Duke and His Mind

By his heart, hand, mind, the Duke ruled,
in which he loved with his heart so kind,
and he lived by his unfaltering hand,
so when he fumbled, he lost his mind.
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Heaven was less than material,
it was the tint of the green in his eyes,
of which a sombre cloud shrouded fast,
a forest to ash as he cries.
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Chainmail anchored his feet to the ground,
from a war that never saw light,
but he wore his secrets like armour,
and hid his mind from sight.
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He lay his heart underfoot,
wouldnt utter a complaint if you trod,
and drop to his knees in the drowsy light,
to tell his secrets to God.
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Each time he tore at the seams,
as he cried tears woven from gold,
and the last of his life's tapestry.
tight in his fist did he hold.
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He would swear to be honest,
but be damned to the depths of hell,
so he held it inside with the arms of dead,
and hoped nobody saw as he fell.
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His facade was a wall built to break,
he would collapse each night into sin,
so when the sun rise split open the dark.
it began to burn through his skin.
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The hands that clasped in prayer shook,
as he painted his grey sky blue,
but throughout his exterior life,
he forced falsity to reign true.
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He lived knowing he would die,
without seeing all there was to be seen,
his mind would whisper that he hadn't,
lived up to all that he could've been.
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He didn't sleep for seven days and nights,
he watched the suns daily eruption,
and as it's crimson proximty loomed,
he craved into death's sweet seduction.
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Despite his admirers and conspirers,
the worst war raged secretly in his head,
and there he crowned himself king of hell,
his blazing glory, burning red.
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I loved the Duke in silence,
but i left the Duke behind,
because in silence they tore eachother apart,
the Duke; and his mind.