From Here

I was once that awkward little boy

Fumbling with my shoelaces

as my crown jostled upon my head

I ruled with an iron fist on those late summer nights

as the realm of the backyard became my own

Until

tears.

The dollar bills

became liquid, swam through our fingers

The battle had been lost

and my iron fist became sand.

I learned humility.

You taught me the beauty of

a king, swathed in rags.

Those laces never did tie themselves

even the velcro ones.

And as I rose from nothing, my heart

swelled.

In my naievety,

the rags remained

but the figure in the mirror was no longer a boy.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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