The Fuhrer

It is the thank I have to yield,
To those who created me,
I am the dictator boss of whom,
Everybody is afraid to death.

As I was when I was young,
And vibrant and full of ideas,
And ideals, morals, righteousness,
All sucked away, slowly, unknowingly.

Many a tiresome nights I worked,
And died in the office itself,
Survived by a waiting wife at home,
And children wanting to play.

It all comes back flooding,
When I spend my evenings now,
In the company of those I love,
With time, and tide in my control.

Because now I am the boss,
The fearsome boss,
The one loathed and cursed,
And yet, honored.

Living in the sweet dreams,
I compile these thoughts of mine,
Which ever existed inside of me,
But never sweated out on the surface.

Maybe someday I’ll shrug off this shroud,
Of being a tyrant,
Or maybe someday you’ll learn how to lick,
(Yes, you know what)
Of the tyrant.

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9 responses to “The Fuhrer

    • thanks…
      i wanted to write something from a different perspective though… so i saw not through the eyes of the oppressed..but of the dictator boss…
      thanks for visiting the blog…

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