Behind me trail the darkened lines. I keep beasts of troughs within my confines. Great men wield me in place of a sword, Yet pigs turn me to a filthy horde.

A fallen, famous king from a kingdom closed in walls, I met a tragic end, a small child caused my fall. My loss mourned far and wide, beyond my kingdom there were tears, I inspired countless memes, in terms of fame I have few peers.

I whispered in Paris, then roared in St. Petersburg, I topple crowns and shake the calm. I spin without moving, I burn without flame, I am feared by those who cling to old names.

A time traveler in a plastic shell, spinning memories caught in a magnetic spell, rewinds the past with a gentle whir, capturing frames without a blur.

Upon a field of mirrored lands, Two nations wait at mind’s commands. The throne is lost when rulers fall, Yet blood is never shed at all.