AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a poem about King when he was a little child and in a state of poverty and in an orphan. He tells how he was exploited and made to work. This is one of my really stressed works so far. So please review.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own tekken.
THE ORPHANED MONARCH
Within the cobblestone lanes I tiredly treard.
Walking down in a wrecked condition of a living dead.
Pacing on each square with a step so weary.
Tiredly treading with an appearance so dreary.
I walked on the path in a beaten manner.
Looking like a hide beaten by a hulky tanner.
By my sight one may state me of a hapless marcher.
Who in his entire term of duty underwent unstable torcher?
Or one may state me of being a rich tenacious landlord.
Who now by his deeds of sin has none now to hold or afford.
Oh my dear friend, do not view about me with thoughts so untrue.
For I am neither a bastard of a soldier who let all die in the yonder of the blue.
Nor am I a landlord with a heart where vices of evil freely flew.
Dear friend what thee think on seeing is all nothing but false perceptions.
For I am only a poor being who had been confined to be under elderly deceptions.
I tell thee friend I am no soldier or landlord so cunning and sly.
I only am a poor pitiful orphan who now or tomorrow is destined to die.
I am a little child with none to love, hold, or kindle in my hand.
Nor am I being loved, held, or kindled by a single one in a band.
I walk and roam on this world with pangs of hunger amidst my body.
I crave only for a morsel of sustenance unlike men hooked to toddy.
I am one who seeks a precious morsel to savor between dusk and dawn.
For my wish now is to bite the bread before I am dead and gone.
I stay not in a place of nature with greenery and bright sunshine.
For it is only a hell where only heat, dirt, and mildew confine.
Where I with my kind work and toil under the reins of exploitation.
Consisting of rapacious nobles who only have souls for domination.
They whip, beat, flog, lash, scourge, welt, and weal me the entire day.
Giving us either a crumb of moldy bread or none for obeying what they say.
We work and toil in hot furnaces with substances and elements so torrid.
For a heart of gold community would gape on seeing our state so horrid.
We toil amidst the perils and dangers that the artificial nature would pose.
Getting wheals and vesicles on contact that would even make life itself close.
Our management of misery gets the profits and gains sparing none a dime.
Giving us only a penny or none for the work done in scum and slime.
O benevolent lord of justice. O gracious beloved mother of mercy.
Who on the face of the entire hemispheres sees with the eyes of clemency?
Why have we been entitled to such a hellish state of insidious reign?
Where we get to the analysis of only our losses and wounds as our gain.
Dear lord why are we destined to suffer such fate of exploitative hate.
Either leave us in peace or bring to the part where the end of us would date.
We could either leave in harmony or die a painful death in peace.
For we are beings who should never toil or sweat amidst the corrosive grease.
We only crave for a wish in our soul, heart, and mind that we pray to thee.
Release us from these chains of bondage and bosses slavery who happily glee.
Or take our very life of ours that exists in this pruritic bag of flesh and bone.
And leave us to die a harmonious death going to the sky where heavens shone.
Great lord of the world my kind prays and bows low to thee with our weary heads.
Please assist us from our peril of exploitation before the life in us goes wholly dead.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is all I could write about King's childhood orphaned life. So please review atleast for him.