Some gods just want to watch the world burn.
Sometimes I do.
And sometimes you handle that quite nicely
on your own.
A friend once said:
“Lord, what fools these mortals be!”
You aren’t all fools, though.
Some of you understand what is important.
Some of you know what’s worth fighting for.
(Not the things that most of you think are worth
fighting for, though.)
I plot and I scheme, but do not call me oathbreaker:
I leave that for the likes of the one-handed one
and my dear blood brother.
I work to wreck:
I bring down the old,
the status quo–
those that would sit surrounded
by ill-earned gold
and stolen power
while others starve;
who feast and run roughshod
over those of humbler means and miens–
as if they deserve their bloody spoils
and lofty towers.
Do my words sting, cut, bruise,
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