The spade is painted across the walls. His symbol.
The elite, the top
come to claim the castle and make the king bow down.
The world shifts at that moment
and for him, the situation is tilted and cut
into only a semblance of what it was.
The castle is no longer a castle, the king no longer a king.
A shack and a pauper
are now what he faces.
He looks down at his body.
His proud chest piece reforged
into a string vest of trowels.