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Autobiography

Called by a higher power
I yield myself to finality
The ultimate surrender

So many dreams turned to smoke
Ascended to the skies without me, stealing
Paintings of granduer from my beloved art dealers

As I write, in my soul I feel again as the homeless youth
Sheltered by those whom I later turned out and destroyed
With images of admiration propagandized to hatred

I ran from my destiny as it sought
Found and rejected me as unable to bear arms
It was to snatch me once again to award me with medals

Charisma and demagogic oratory
propelled my people into orbit around me
as I launched my plan to conquer the world

In conquering I was conquered
Futility held the gun to my head
Will my loving mother be there to forgive me?

How would you improve this?

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