Tyrant
My armies march through foreign lands
crushing those who dare resist,
building pinnacles of power,
but sometimes I recall my youth.
Men cringe before my arrogance
and tremble if I frown.
They praise my name and might.
But history's pages stir,
preparing to despise me.
A motion of my much feared arm,
a nod of condemnation,
and servants leap to do my will.
But once my days were innocent.
How did I reach my dreaded place?
Did I once defy another power? I forget.
Almost time to make another speech
and wonder where assassins lurk.
My armies march through foreign lands.
My grateful followers flatter me
with statues in the public squares.
Men cringe before my arrogance
and tremble when I frown.
A motion of my dreaded arm,
and servants obey my murderous will.
But late at night
when affairs of state are dozing,
and only the footsteps of my elite guard
echo through the peoples' palace,
I lie awake, prisoner of distant memories,
an innocent youth who meant well,
before entering the service of power.
Now I dwell in isolated splendor
fearing poison in my midnight cocoa,
trusting no one, needing everyone.
Do my people despise me?
Will they forget my achievements?
Most dreadful thought....
Will they tear down my statues?