The Tower part I (The Conquerer)

The leaves turn into crows and follow the sun as it sets
Past a crumbling tower with a dying conqueror muttering regrets
And the old man sees his empire, his battlements of stone,
Under siege by thyme and by mosses overthrown.

Every time I think apparitions they appear
Brooding, angry, evil things mapping me trapping what I hear,
Buffeting their wings, preying on my every fear. 

An epitaph of crumbling words, mockeries of what I meant to say
Flocks and flocks of mocking birds sending me an endless gray.