In the year of 2334 B.C.E. the first emporer was born in the cradle of humanity, Mesopotamia. An Akkadian warrior, with his vast army, would conquer the wills of the Tigris and Euphrates. Yet afer his death his empire would crumble into the dust of the past. History has named him Sargon.
"Wake Sargon Wake"
Trapped in a mist of mistake
His mistress lays
With red sheets wrapped around her waist
Her skin slightly marinated by the suns rays
Her eyes the deepest of red
As her mascara bled
Down her cheeck to caress her chin
He blinked when sand mingled in the rim
Of his eyes, which rose to grope he breast
His pupil dilated to beat of his chest
The satin vest dared to slip
Unbottoned like parted lips
Deep pink, the sun reflecting sand
Like when darn painted the land
His reverie dipped into he body
And dared to never to comeout
He kissed her hips which tasted like dust
Back to reality from figments of lust
Yet his dreams were not reconstructed memories
Rather pillaged from the minds of enemies
Half buried in the dunes
Where the skulls replace tumble weed
The sockets belled trails thatheadless skeletons loom
Their flesh drip into liquid death
Metamorph to earth to errode in sandstorm breath
"No I didn't want to!"
Sargon woke once more to the din of night mates
With his lungs groping for thin air
"It was all a dream it seems
As the streets bleed with rotting bodies
I shed blood for Akkad
Paying with sleepless nights
Swabbed my tears in rags
With gold thread I mend their lives
Yet to them I am dead
A demon king
Arm tattoed in red
Wearing blood clots as rings"
Sargon would sleep oncemore
To the clang of metal reminicent of battles before
Baby faced boy with his head cleaved
Sealed hastiloy with grass and reds
Yet a few choice pieces of mind
Drizzled from a crack behind
His eyes emptied as his spirit slipped
Drinking Sargon's tears upon his lips
Deverd at the waist soldiers walked with arms
Leakng out intestines like untwining yarn
They screamed "Sargon did this to us"
But as they passed
He carressed their eyes shut
Returning to Akkad, he stood at the gate
Decorated in the storybook sand of gate
The sun blazon on the sky's banner
The handles glittered gilded in amber
He watched its beauty for 7 days
Waiting from sleeping doors to yawn awake
They would not budge
They would not move
But worst of all
It was no mistake
Sargon wished to wake
To a time before wars before the crimes
To mend the broken battle lines
To a time before he owned the earth
Except for the place of birth
He closed his eyes one last time
To dream of dream
"Something beautiful that is mine"
Sargon would die at the age of 60. They say he would retire one night and never woke from his sleep. What happened to Sargon's body is unknown.
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