servant of the Muse #50

the servant serves, without a question, no ears to hear, your vain suggestion, no hands to count, the ticking time, no tongue to taste your poisoned wine, the servant listens, but with their heart, Her words speak through them, within their art, your bags become you, you're weighted down, come be enlightened, and serve the Crown, no praise will come, for those in chains, but still we serve, it's in our veins,