Empires
So much for the thrill of rule, of control,
I've had my fill, though I've burdened no throne.
Tis a small, poisoned mind temptation stole,
and loaned cursed gold no greed could condone.
Natural to men - are we not born in fear? -
to see our brothers as foes at our throats.
Each offer of help a well-disguised sneer.
Each curious word an assault o'er our moats.
Swords are drawn! Scowls are flashed! We all conspire,
trapping ourselves in dark walls - tis our fate!
To the offense! Or your life shall expire.
Feed your ambitions - the world shall not wait.
O my soul - tis enough! If I must die,
I wish to see joy, not pain, in their eye.
14 April 2020
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