Napoleon the Short
That damn horse, that ivory beast,
My one source of shame,
For the world was mine to have,
But that tower cares not of my power.
I conquered countries, set cities ablaze,
My name carried weight, I was feared,
But gravity has no favorites,
In this sick declination of mine.
The powerful painting, riding the rearing steed,
People saw me as a force, a conqueror,
But here, at my final embarrassment,
People see me as a jester, stumbling from the stirrup.
And as I climb the wooden steps,
To the metal death machine, that killer of the masses,
I leave this world as a prideless, shameful man,
Thinking of one thing and one thing alone…
F*** that horse.