A Little Caesars In This Rain (a poem)

I'm not crying, you're crying.​

​A Little Caesars In This Rain
 
The water pools upon your face,
a visage that once held such fame,
a soul of kindness, bread, and grace
like Constantine or Charlemagne.
 
The talent you had! The skill abound!
To laugh, to love, to entertain,
but now you lay here on the ground
as I recite my dry refrain
of disappointment, shock, and hurt,
guilt and sorrow and disdain.
 
Will you waste away to dirt?
Leaving not a single stain?
Will the pooling water drain?
And you resume your Roman reign?
 
Oh, how I wish to know your pain:
a Little Caesars in this rain.