Hundred heads rolling in the dust
under a crimson sky
enveloped in the smell of musk
there stood I, victorious,
in a battle against my creed.
While I also lay dead
laden in white and a smile,
bittersweet,
losing my soul to greed.

There is no boundary
but only ego sheathed
in time,
the unparalleled truth
is a limited guideline.

And so I am false,
my identity only a clue
before the hourglass turns again
and fallen kings rise to sing
the battle won is reset
parodies made are not of me
the mirror reflects different things
scars whittle, memories mold,
and events I thought were nothing
now cost me more than gold.

The switch is mine,
but not mine to make,
but when it does happen,
it is for me to take.

Unless I roll the dice today,
and make a choice,
to only realize..
the hourglass turned
the wrong way.