Legacy
The poets of our time go down as the Greats.
Those who wear disguises go down as fakes.
The rebels go down as revolutionaries.
Those who oppose the divine rule go down as non-believers.
Rain lightning its scary.
I sit in the middle of it all, pondering.
what will my legacy be.
Will the city only whisper chaos.
Or will the ground shake because of the pandemonium it brings.
Or will i become a ghost.
Forgotten by most.
Remembered by few.
A mans worst fear like a warriors seppuku.
Blood spews on the podium.
But your death wasn't honored.
It was forgotten.
buried under the sands of time.
But not I.
My legacy, My time.
Copyright © Emery Porter | Year Posted 2012
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