Step up,
The podium is waiting.
Peer at the faces of your people,
Who are eager for profound wisdom,
Unparalleled passion,
Ready to obey.
Then elaborate,
With arm waving,
And emotion bleeding from every word.
Conclude the speech,
As you gesture the crowd one last time.
Then wipe the sweat from your forehead.
The deafening roar of approval is euphoric.
As you feel the divine power,
A sinister smile exudes.
A mere glimpse,
Of what is to come.

Mass genocide is underway,
Just as you wanted.
The self satisfaction grows
As millions die.
The world lay in turmoil,
Countries in ashes,
Families obliterated.

The faint sound of engines,
Forces your heart to pound.
The bunker is strong,
But with much dismay,
You think,
You realize,
You accept,
It's over.

But don't give them the satisfaction.
Grasp the pistol.
With sweaty palms,
Shaking hands,
Feel the ice-cold metal against your hair.
Inhale once more,
Exhale and pull.
Your legacy lives on,
A phantom, in the dark corners of history
Haunting, and manifesting,
For when history repeats.