The Kingmaker

Through his pale eyes he watched the setting sun

He remembered his own sunshine and twilight hours

How he used to manipulate minds for fun

And toy with the person in the seat of power

The audiences of the cacophonic power riddle

Would see him content playing second fiddle

But only the handful whose ears were honed

Could recognise that he was setting the tone

Growing up learning never to easily believe

Always ready with another trick up his sleeve

So wily that many a brilliant stand

Came nowhere close to forcing his hand

Reveling in the role of the puppet master

Crafting everything from dreams to disaster

Tentacles crawling into every vacant space

Fingers fidgeting at a frenetic pace

But there was one frayed thread he chose to ignore

It snapped and suddenly, tensions began to soar

Not cautious enough to fill the tiniest gaps

They united and pointed to an imminent collapse

He now looked set to lose the game of the throne

The puppet master was strangled by strings of his own

His days of toppling crowns are now long gone

He sits in the cellar; only his tales live on

Lying in a corner, he waits for the dawn

Still hoping to find another well-positioned pawn