Impostor

I live with kings

who tower above,

with fancy robes

And unstained gloves.

They always seem so….

Golden.

I walk beside them.

Only two feet tall,

but when they run

I always fall.

My feet are just too...

Heavy.

They carry crowns

of gems and gold.

I’m not worthy,

or so I’m told,

to dream about something so…

Precious.

Still, I’m here,

And I’ll still smile.

Laugh it off.

Stay for a while.

I don’t think they realize I’m so…

Broken.

Sometimes I wonder

If it’s true

If the crowns they wear

are something new?

Or are they just…

Gilded.

Like my crown too.