There is a thirst for power,
Such thirst can’t be quenched.


The imagination satisfies those urges
That the real world cannot contain.





With bolts so powerful and
Disintegration at hand,
There is no stopping it.


The adrenaline lowers and
The self-proclaimed king banishes





Sometimes generous
Other times ravenous,
It all depends on the mood.


No mercy to the enemy
No pity for the fool
But the beast is human too,
Capable of loving and caring
Able to cry and feel





The day will come when
The king bows down.


He will not go up or down,
Nor will he stand in between
There is no place for such king.