This poem was originally published on 27 July 2017.
When I will be king, I will be fine. When I will be king, I’ll have land that is mine. They shall obey a voice, Whose accent they scorned, In a tongue I do not share But they have been warned. When I will be king, They will look at my skin, And recognise quite a different beast Rests within. And they may bleed the same colour, Wear the same melanin, But I will be king. They shall bow to a man, Whose body they mocked, With roots I somewhat shared, But at the same time did not. When I will be king, I won’t have to belong. When I will be king, They will still be wrong.