When Silence Wept

"Power's Grip"

In the heart of Rome, I saw Caesar rise,
A man of the people, with fire in his eyes.
He spoke of reform, of justice, of right,
But power was watching, lurking in night.
The Senate grew restless, whispers grew loud,
And Brutus, his friend, was lost in the crowd.
When the blade found its mark, and Caesar lay still,
It wasn't betrayal-just power's dark will.
For those who seek crowns, whether noble or kind,
Find their hearts twisted, their vision turned blind.

In the highlands of Scotland, the tale was the same,
Macbeth, once a hero, drawn into the game.
The witches foretold him a future of gold,
But power, not glory, was all he could hold.
With each life he took, with each step on that path,
Power consumed him, left only wrath.
And when he looked back, his kingdom in flames,
He realized too late, he was just power's slave.
So beware what you wish for when seeking a throne,
Power devours, and leaves you alone.

Across the cold steppe, in Stalin's cruel eyes,
I saw how power thrives on its lies.
He rose for the people, a comrade, a guide,
But power's touch turned his truth to divide.
Friends became enemies, the nation a cage,
The promise of justice dissolved into rage.
For power's no ally, no honest man's friend,
It corrodes from within, leads to violent ends.
If you reach for its fire, you'll burn in its flame,
Your heart will grow cold, and you'll never be the same.

In the deserts of Persia, Alexander stood tall,
The world at his feet, but power in thrall.
He conquered the earth, but peace never came,
For power just hungered, it wasn't the same.
What he thought was his destiny, his glorious reign,
Became a prison, a source of deep pain.
He found at the summit, no triumph, no cheer,
Just the empty echoes of power's cruel leer.
So to those who would conquer, who long to be kings,
Know that power has teeth, and sharp are its stings.

From Caesar to Stalin, from Macbeth to the great,
All learned too late that power's a bait.
It calls with sweet whispers, with promises bright,
But it twists every soul, steals every light.
So beware the allure, the crowns made of gold,
For power's a serpent with coils that enfold.
If you chase it, if you grasp for its fire,
It will turn you to ash in your own desire.
Seek not the throne, lest you lose your own soul-
For power consumes, and leaves nothing whole.