Despotic Dreamer

Vlad the inhaler
Drunk on his own power
But criminals always
Live in fear

Paranoid for so long
His mind wanders
From theory to conspiracy
Who to trust?

He searches for meaning
And what might be
His contribution
His legacy

All those years of
Fighting with himself
Takes its toll
He grows old

Feels time slipping through
His little pink hands and
Soft manicured fingers
He is weary

Too many fools
Cowardly arse-kissers
Just as he once was
Working his way up