The Little King

There was once a little boy
His parents were king and queen
His brother was a prince
But he was anything but
The little boy was small
And not just in stature
He stayed small
As his brother grew greater
Preparing to one day
Be crowned king
Then one fateful night
Screams echoed dimly
From the floor below
The little boy recognized
The screams of his family
He was hastily hidden
In a wooden crate
Shut tight in the wine cellar
With the lingering scent
Of aged grapes
And there he stayed
For the rest of the night
Sobbing into the eventual silence
Until he woke in the morning
Eyes puffy and red
When he emerged
There was no one in sight
The hallways upstairs
Were stained with blood
The little boy ran
As fast as he could
A few weeks later
The boy returned
Along with a crowd
Of cheering subjects
He looked around, nervous
But the walls were all clean
As if that nightmare
Had never happened
The boy was named king
The wide crown placed
Upon his too-small head
Lopsided,
One side of the crown
Grazing the tip
of his sticky-out ear
He smiled for his subjects
Waved for the nobles
But his green eyes stayed sad
And they did till the end.