Romulus, Foe of Despair
Oh Romulus, demon, you devil, you foe,
Betwixt thy ambition of perilous woe,
Thy heart, black as night, nigh thine virtues do grow,
In shadows thou lingerest, death doth thou sow.
Thou architect ruinous, crafting despair,
With cunning you greweth, a duo most rare,
Beset on all innocent, casting thy gaze,
Plotting such downfall in dreadfullest ways.
In corridors powerfully, whisperings spread,
Sowing thy discord, of chaos art fed,
With every step deeper the grounds bleeding bricks,
How Cherubin angels do fear of thine tricks.
Yet, doth hear me now, oh quick fiend so renowned,
Thy kingdom of shadows shall soon tumble down,
For all dark shall fall, for such goodness to rise,
And behold in its warmth, king, a new age apprised.
So cling to thy darkness foul stench of the throne,
For soon thou shalt find thee entrenched and alone,
By hands of mine just, and by heart pure as stone,
Thy reign of rank terror shall be overthrown.
Oh Romulus, demon, this truth thou shouldst know,
From ashes of evil, doth hope always grow,
Away from a tyranny, strength’s deepened flow,
Will rise above swiftly and vanquish foul foe.
