THINKING IT WON'T

this is my second poem that i just made

i saw the pauper,
picking up the papers,
i saw the ol' mistress,
counting the beds,
i saw those pests,
munching the crumbs,
a thought lingering the house,
never the near,
nor was it?
the sword is always on the move,
and the round is always a round,
never to mention a squeek,
but the shadow keeps the creep,
while rainbows muscatel with colours,
the chest is facing the upcoming,
while the heart is still pounding,
walls and layered by army,
the greatest root of all,
feeling peace and the sun,
forward, leaving the crumb,
and now the mould is creeping,
full of troy filled with surprise,
what would the throne be made?
what shall be the carpenter?
where should the king stand high?
the white is near,
but the black is there,
and the piece will continue,
for there is the knight, the king,
and the queen....

to my special someone,
i hope that you'll give u most sincere comment on this one.
sorry it took so long.