The Dictator
The voice was loud and clear
Whispering when quiet in his ear
And it spoke to him of evil things
That urged him to do what it brings
He heard it at school every day
Urging him on in its unusual way
Wanting him to hate his father
And running for soothing from his mother
So he grew to a man with the voice
Urging him on with no choice
Even when he failed as a painter
It grew louder in his head not fainter
When finally without further prospects
The Great War exploded in effect
And he joined the German Army then
Going to the front determined his country to defend
Near the end of the Great War
Gassed and blinded to hospital making war no more
The voices started to speak again
Telling him the ones at home to blame in the end
He was told by the voices he was the one
And into the Party he rose up and it had begun
Trying once to start a rebellion
Ending in prison as a rapscallion
In prison he wrote of his struggle as was made
The voice dictating his life in his escapade
Out of prison he rose to the top
As the voices continued to say he couldn’t be stopped
Persecute and Conquer were the words he heard
And a war he started was the final word
At the start victory was his happiness
To take on Russia for living space his next quest
But things didn’t go to his plan then
The winter defeated him in the end
But the voice was still his greatest fan it said
And the bombs blasted the country away with many dead
In ten years you wouldn’t recognise the country the voice did say
And so it came to pass but not his way
The bombers had the final call
Death a bullet and cyanide that’s all
And so the voice leaves him now
To find a new one to speak of how
The world should want to be
Dictated to and not be free.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2020
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