Dictator of Souls

I wish I were a dictator, striving for souls,
reaching for power that swallows me whole.
Looking, always wanting, this elusive hope,
yet tumbling and turning, down I grope.

I see you there, pulling me to ground,
a whiplash of sound, my tether bound.
Grounded here, forever caught in your grasp,
I crave your tears, the echoes that rasp.

The innocence I saw—none were like you,
purely formed in a vessel so true.
A contradiction, a beauty I can’t deny,
you hold me captive, beneath a tyrant’s sky.

What is this power you wield so soft,
that tears me down and lifts me aloft?
A dictator I dreamt, to conquer and rule,
yet here I am, in your grip, the fool.

For all I sought was control and might,
but you, my love, have stolen my fight.
Your tears, your purity, I now adore—
the dictator I wished to be, wants no more.