He was sly through life
Cunning, tough
Always won his fights
Sixteen years through battle and war
Even on his deathbed
He wanted some more
Creep around at night
Like a shadow in daylight
Sometimes you could lose him
But that's just part of the plan
He could even get props
From the man named Peter Pan
Followers gathered
To fight at his side
To go against him in battle
Was pure homicide
His warriors fought bravely
Reckless and true
They were all winners
Through and through
His flock of fighters
Grew by the day
For they wanted blood
That was their pay
Just one enemy did remain
In his way to glory
He swore to it
This would be the day
He sent out his army
To march toward victory
Little did he know
What trouble did lie ahead
His army fell in hundreds
This couldn't be real
It had to be fake!
His army fell
Like NY in and Earthquake
Lastly who remains
Defended him gracefully
Swift and just
Yet it was not enough
With his enemies in his eyes
He made not one plea
Not one cry
He shall not kneel
He shall not leave
For dying in the battlefield
Was the greatest glory you can achieve
A sling and a slash
Enemies fell
Then he smelt a most familiar smell
It was the smell of hatred and greed
His mortal enemy
Stood before his very feet
As his enemies circled
He knew this is the end
Even if he won
His will, will be done
The two fought as cheering raged
Things were getting heated
Like two bears in a cage
Then in and instant
Feelings went blank
All happiness was gone
Fuel was leaving his tank
Sixteen years through battle and war
In an instant he thought,
I want more
Dedication to 'The Godfather', someone who went into battle when all was lost. Courage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i hope you keep writeing. because this is just one out of many grate poems to come. 'write on'