Monarch

Plastic regent
With antennae inside
To feel the world
Around and what surrounds

Seeing with an iris
That opens and constricts
Pupil dilates and closes
And vision tightens

Flying like a phantom
A wraith hovering
In its unnatural color
A stark platinum mantle

(Unalive but never dying
With a tiny mind of its own)

Summoned by an aspect
Of glass morphing and stained
Like a warlock conjuring
A servant with magicka

It follows and stays
Sways in the wind
Gently but is always
Within range of its mage

(Commanded by wands
And expelled all the same)

Wings gold and white
Beating so rapidly
Mechanical and smooth
Defying all gravity

No force can keep its
Form on the ground
With the way it takes flight now
No gravity there could be

(Ever containing it;
No
Verti-
Go)

Etched into its fetch
A mimicry in swarming
Electric eye in the sky
On [ozone’s/welkin’s] blade edge

It burns up as it goes
Gets hot to the touch
Even though it
Doesn’t breathe as such

It can dent
But will never die
Can’t walk
But it can fly

It is a butterfly
A king
An android
A

Monarch