Cost of the Crown

If you beg, you lose yourself.
A hollow echo rattling on a shelf,
Trading your spine for a passing nod,
Kneeling to mortals as if they were god.

If you give up, you lose dignity.
Surrendering quietly, willingly,
Folding your hands before the bell even rings,
Clipped by the shadow of broken wings.

If you run, you lose courage.
Leaving your blood in the mechanical forage,
Choosing the dark and the safety of walls,
Fading away as the empire falls.

If you cheat, you lose self-respect.
A cracked little mirror of your own neglect,
Winning a race where the finish is fake,
Swallowing water while choking on lake.

If you gossip, you lose love.
Trading the warmth of the skies above
For poison dropped gently from a velvet tongue,
A song of betrayal too easily sung.

But—

If you swim in poison to taste the golden cure,
If the hands that reach for it aren't quite pure,
If you burn your own name just to light up the game...
You’ve lost nothing.
You’ve gained fame.