Drunk With Power Poem by Maguna Lokark

The greatest divine drink,
The potent drink of kings,
Is the intoxicating sip
Which to ego gives wings.

After every victory
In every war
He takes a sip, why?
Why! He won what he fought for!

After every speech
Among every crowd
He takes a sip, why?
Why! The applause makes him proud!

For every subordinate he has,
In every department he rules,
He takes a sip, why?
Why! Sadistic pleasure in calling them fools!

With every deadly sip,
His respect does dip,
He stumbles, he does slip,
Tries to stand but does trip.

He is now drunk
Drunk with power.
His esteem is in shambles
Which once used to tower.

Thus,
Though he sat on the throne
He fell to the floor
With a wicked heart of stone.

He watched his throne
Be owned by some other,
He watched with perishing breath
His more powerful successor.