Small men will fall,
short of their expectations.
Their onset of pride,
brewing, like the storm in their eyes.
Lies they will spout,
out of spiteful, little mouths.
Small men will break,
under the pressure they seek.
When their greed is uncovered,
smothered in apathetic promises,
concocted with spiteful little minds.
Small men will fade,
like the shadows in the night,
like thunder come sunlight.
-ning shall transpire-
here, where smoke filled mouths will never tire.
Small men, you will fall
like autumn leaves when November breaks.
Lest you let your pride be what winter takes,
And shake the dust off long closed eyes.
For a wiseman, reborn in Spring,
Will watch in awe,
As women rise.