Legacy

He comes back to look at it one more time

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

“What is your legacy?”

‏‏‎ ‎

The mirror he fronting now
Provides a silent tone

‏‏‎ ‎

Is it the humanitarian work
That can go to his tombstone?

‏‏‎ ‎

Or is it the pain and love he causes
To the ones he connected to?

‏‏‎ ‎

Perhaps the crispy fire he sets out
For the evanescent passion
And great obsession
Only can be tasted alone

‏‏‎ ‎

The devotion of his empire under his feet
Will bare to his bone

‏‏‎ ‎

But really, what remains to be known
That people will ever remember his time on the throne

‏‏‎ ‎

Sobbing on the wasted time for mindless affairs
He now wishes to atone

‏‏‎ ‎

Fifty-four years of living
He asks the mirror once again
“What is your legacy that should be known?”

‏‏‎ ‎