Sovereign of Shadows

In the depths of a throne, where darkness reigns, A figure sits, amidst the swirling remains Of papers and power, a man of might, With a smile that gleams, in the flickering light. His eyes, like embers, burn with inner fire, As he holds the pages, his heart's greatest desire. The chair, a beast, with spines that rise, Guards him from the world, with watchful, wary eyes. The room, a haze, of smoke and burning past, A backdrop for the drama that will forever last. The man, a king, of his own twisted domain, Rules over the shadows, with an iron, velvet chain. His laughter echoes, through the smoke-filled air, As he reads the pages, with a knowing, wicked care. In this, his kingdom, he is the master of fate, Where the lines between power and madness create A dance of shadows, where the truth is hard to find, And the sovereign's will, is the only law of the land, entwined.