The Ruler I stood there frozen and amazed. With just a wave of your hand and a tilt of your head you ripped my heart in two. Such power! Only a king could wield; that with two simple gestures my life you'd shatter. With bleeding hands I'll crown you king of my misery, lord of my sorrow, and broken hearts will trail to pay you homage. For now you rule.
Pete Sokarda's Questions:
Does the poem flow?
Does the last line make an impact or is it unecessary?
Is the image strong enough?