The Brute Had A Dream Poem by Rex-mayor Ubini

My legendary, now, is written in my chest,
In honour of the host to wickedness.
The thick blood of history
Is gnarled with the blood of humanity.
Let the demons rise and confess:
I’m the first and the last brute,
That ever blew to end; lucifer’s flute.
And have mankind
Danced the dance of death.

Today the enemy of man is made proud.
Proud is him the devil I long to meet
The reason my bravery stood fearlessly.
Is to behold the glory of him.

The echoes of my deeds
seems to have silent the earth.
Or could this be a confetti at my lord’s feet?
Silence had never been this loud
So loud that my ears are deafening dead
Not even a single click of his heel,
Not even a single tweet from a distant hill
Where are the birds?
It seems the earth is dead.
The bone of fear is forcefully clogging my throat.
My bravery is snailly waxing cold.
Fear has my legs trembling boldly
Where is my glory? Where is my… umm
My lord speaks through my mind;
Oh no… oh no… O’ but my lord?
Death has no journey return
How could I inherit the world
If death is the only way to see your face.
Oh… no… I should have known
I would be the last to fall on my own;
My own sword of wickedness!

The preachers were all right.
You are not a friend of man
You made me wiped out my kind
Without thinking twice that;
A king is no king without his subjects
Where can I find home without men?
I have lost the world I have lost it all.
The world is not her precious stones
The world is not her beautiful scenery
The world is in the life of mankind, the human race
Whom without,
no one can live in this cold and lonely space.
If I could turn back the hands of time,
I would fight with all my strength to preserve the human race.

Oh oh ohhhh, it was a dream!