Look on My Works Ye Mighty, and Despair

I've finally gotten around to writing once more, and this is the first of three stories I have. The other two will be up soon.

My empire crumbles before my very eyes and I sit buried alive in the tomb among the ruins of my glorious capital, my very own city. I never imagined my enemies would ever defeat my armies one by one, breach the sanctity of my city, and leave me to die the pitiful death of an animal. My enemies compared me to Hitler, Stalin and the like, though they never lasted long they laugh at me from the ashes.

My uniform, metals, titles, and honors count for nothing! Can a name buy victory? The loyalty of my men led only to treachery and the strength of my arms yielded only defeat. The battles went my way when the fighting was fair, but my enemy grew cunning and pulled my rightful victory from under my feet, from within my own country. My own people abandon me and bow down to foreign masters, I see to it those unfortunate enough to survive rot in a barren wasteland unfit for even the vilest forms of life.

The great buildings I made collapse into ruin, blasted by fire from the sky, and my people die in droves, burnt and crushed and beaten and shot. The smell of fire and death consumes my country. Good, the flesh of my people burns to nothing and leaves no feast of victory for the foreign vultures devouring my lands. They speak of freedom and democracy, but such words are lies. I lived only the truth and am destroyed for it, though they cannot be rid of me forever. I rose before and shall rise again to rule over the hearts and souls of men until the end of days. I will return.