You bow before your Lessers, when you are worth more Than ten of them. Stand. (Image of Ogier and Morgana by NC Wyeth)
My wings scratch the skyWorthy and strong, kneel beforeMe, this is your death.
Individuals Menaced me but true malice Arises from groups
They beg for a dropOf your water, and you giveThem nothing at all. You do not sufferAlone; you drink from your ownCup, and you are
My bound hands and the Litany of wrongs; was I Your evil twin? The Leering grin of the Executioner above Forces me to think. Our
Dead-eyed clown mouths what My chickenshit goodness will Never say aloud