Sad clowns in the colleseum

Staring death in the face
Looking for leaders in death’s race
Can we call this a curse
Or it’s life itself
Manifesting it’s bare claws to those who dare look.
 Those strong enough to ask the oracles the questions that matter
Those wise enough to seek the way in the desert,
Oasisless wildernesses,
With mirages vivid in the distance.
Tricking even the called to hope for a drink that will quench ancient thirsts.
But alas, they fade,
Desperation sets in
They turn to the Caesar and chant
Avē Imperātor, moritūrī tē salūtant ("Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you")