He wandered through kingdoms of velvet…

He wandered through kingdoms of velvet and vice,
a man with a smile carved carefully from ice.
His pockets held promises stolen and torn,
a boy hidden deep where the monster was born.

He sought out affection in any disguise—
a stranger's warm touch, a believer's kind eyes.
A moment of comfort, a night free of grief,
a temporary kingdom, a counterfeit relief.

Many crossed paths with the soul he concealed,
those who could've loved him had the darkness been healed.
They offered him gardens, a place to belong,
but he danced with his demons and led them along.

For he was a child from a castle of pain,
where love wore a dagger and kindness brought chains.
Where the hands that should shelter instead left a scar,
and taught him that closeness was safer from far.

So he wore many faces, a thief in the night,
selling fragments of truth just to borrow the light.
For a lie wrapped in warmth was still warmth to his skin,
and the cold empty silence was a darkness within.

He loved like a phantom who feared being seen,
haunting the spaces where tenderness had been.
Choosing familiar wounds over peace he could trust,
mistaking destruction for passion and lust.

Until one moonless evening beside a black sea,
he looked at the monster and whispered, "It's me."

No witch had cursed him, no demon, no spell,
the prison was built from the stories he’d tell.
The ghosts of his childhood still ruled from their throne,
because he had never challenged the kingdom they owned.

So he buried the masks beneath a dead tree,
and mourned every version he pretended to be.
The lovers he lost became names in the rain,
a choir of memories singing his shame.

He learned that real love was a blade and a flame—
it burns what you were before you can change. It
asks for your ego, your secrets, your pride, and
leaves no dark corner where monsters can hide. The
man who once begged for affection to stay finally
walked through his shadows away. For the heart he
had searched for in every embrace had waited for
years in the ruins he faced. The kingdom he sought
was never above, for the price of true happiness…
was becoming worthy of love.