He is King

Long hair finding his purose,

scars wraught up across his back.

Hands chained up on perpose to show his soft side.

Scars cover this smiling body, branded with words.

The labes he has forced apon him will shape his body ever more,

Emracing his words: Homeless, Depressed, Hethan, But he is a king.

He is a King of the strange, bringing the rejected to his embrace.

The shield at his feet will forever protect his subjects, his ruled kin.

They are the nerds, the kingdom of nerds.

The lords all following their King's wise word.

His brandings may be lables, but those are just happenstance.

He is what he makes of himself, the grand king of the nerds.

 He is chained to save his people, tourtured in their place.

The smiling king knows his purpose, the long hair saviour