End Of Time

he sits on a throne,

proud and powerful.

the kingdom, all his own.

he stands at the podium, hands high,

he speaks,

and not a dry eye.

The voice of an angel,

with the mind of the devil,

his words ring throughout, proud and powerful.

no one dares defy the king, his mighty,

all bow down,

mindful or flighty.

quietly, he shuts all possible opposition down,

from unexplainable death,

to making them the talk of the town.

he never addresses the brave,

the few,

those who do not love him too.

whispers abound as

more wars start,

that maybe their dear king hasn’t a heart.

he starts to take notice, and his tactics are no longer effective

to convince the kingdom

that they are not just his collective.

his words ring throughout the land,

but this place is starting to see,

beginning to understand.

the death, the power,

the cloth over their eyes,

up in his tower,

the king tells more lies.

there’s no turning back

nor should there be.

this kingdom is really starting to see.

he tries and tries

and finds no avail.

seems his wicked ways have finally sent him to hell.

they carry him out of his castle, distraught.

execution is a lesson he wishes

he was never taught.

the kingdom has no leader now

the revolution has begun

the king is out and

the people, they have won.