Poem — Ouroboros of Lies
Speaking like a tempting serpent,
bowing to your instincts as a servant,
you are failing terribly to perceive
that it is yourself, not others, you deceive.
Preying upon the folly of the brave,
ruling with a silver tongue how they behave,
your kingdom lies on pits of quicksand,
so much is lost and so little found.
Clawing upon the fleeting ghosts,
with eyes upon new unwilling hosts,
to drink the lifeblood of the young
who are on the chaos of life drunk.
Cursing the heavens and all the hells,
for your realm has died in lonely wells.
No bards will sing of your name and glory,
no one shall ever remember your dead story.
Your words will turn to ashes,
your name will suffer a thousand lashes.
History will curse upon your grave
for misleading the fates of souls brave.