He rides on a snow-white dragon.

Waiting, wondering.

They told him he’d fly to oblivion,

But is that really true?

As he rides into an endless sunset,

He doubts it.

 

He knows the past is behind him.

Before him, the future.

They told him the past is better,

But is that really true?

As he achieves never-ending glory,

He doubts it.

 

His triumph turns to sorrow,

Death, and destruction.

They told him nothing lasts forever,

But is that really true?

As he hears incessant screaming,

He doubts it.

 

He rides on a pitch-black machine.

Scheming, plotting.

They told him he wouldn’t return,

But is that really so bad?

As he crushes his enemies,

He doubts it.

 

His hatred consumes him.

Hollow husks remain.

They told him this would happen,

But does it really matter?

Since he can’t feel regret,

He doubts it.

 

He lies on the cold ground.

Fallen.

They told him he’d reach oblivion.

Was it really true?

As he views the surrounding destruction,

He believes it.