The young king’s reign was over–

Though Ill Fated was he destined;

The rumors had consumed his,

 

Legend, the Spanish crowning farce;

Years of struggle, for years she’d

Faded–yet suddenly redempted;

 

Her drool stained throne and grease,

Stained crown, endured in tact,

Lived past the source expelling.

 

They seized his corpse for study,

They searched inside for answers–

The expert in charge detailing:

 

“He not contained a drop of blood–

His heart the size of a peppercorn;

Intestines green and rotted putrid;

 

He’d but a testicle, black as coal,

As were his lungs and every bone;

His head was full of water.”