They loaded his mind with venomous verses, scratched his mirror with haunting reflections, prodded him to bow at their mercy. Gulping down his strength, he was dead inside. He arose with the fear to live and slept with the dread of being killed. "Turn your weaknesses into strengths," he had once read. Thus, he gathered every critical sneer thrown at his face, every stab that caused his soul to burn, every lie that made him tremble to the core of his inner spirit, and it turned the emotion in his eyes to one of determined conviction. After that, every day, he arose with an air of confidence, with an aura that screamed King. But no one saw that the crown he wore was made out of his own fear.