A predilection covered a wealthy hand.

He’s precipitate, never gave a predicate; treating men like ants.

A prescient, presage, a bad omen let his ego down.

Now, his own preamble is rushed to be crowned.

Greed favors his presentiment, all must bow down.

Now, with his guiding dark, a lightning strike.

Without ants knowing, their leader cries.

Repentance, remorse… Too late for death has come.

Justice has been served, nothing has crammed.

The darkness of abyss; The overflowing loud cry.

It can be heard below, a land so far.

It’s shameful, deceitful to pry.

Once a liar trembled now in pain outshined.

Seeking for help, it’s too late when evil is enshrined.

When will these happened? When will these end?

No one knows, just a guess, a presentiment.

This moment of the reigning of the crown

Let others be drowned, downed.

It will never delay.

It will be enshrined

In light of truth through deed, it will be bound in the lowest ground.