12.05.2013
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...*sigh*
UPON MY THRONE, I HEAR THEIR GROANS
AS I SIT...GRIPPING...KNUCKLES WHITE AS BONE
THEY BEAT THEIR FISTS, AT GODS WHO HAVE LEFT THEM COLD
MY HEAT IS WEAK, THOUGH I BURN WITH AN EXPRESSIVE GLOW
TREACHERY. I SMELL IT
JEALOUSY REIGNS SUPREME IT SEEMS
AMONG THE GODS
DEVILISH SCHEMES SPROUTING WINGS
I WILL CRUSH
LIMB FROM LIMB: TEAR TO PIECE-
S, MY MOTHER'S DEATH WILL NOT FADE
AS LONG AS HER SON LIVES ON-
FATE IS AN EXCUSE
ONE I REFUSE
IT WILL BE BENT...I WILL DESCEND X 3
*Applause*
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