Disclaimer: I do not own Loki of Jotunheim.
Claim: This is my poem. Let there by no doubt about that.
Trickster King
Washed and bleached, colours drained away from Asgard,
A season no longer jolly, winter's vengeance had come,
Stolen, hidden relic no more; the proud King of Asgard; yes,
Power he had taken strip by strip, steadily raising up in glory,
Death of the former ruler; an old man withering of age,
Queen dead, stabbed wrongly from the false aim of a blade,
Rightful heir fooled, easily blinded from the truth of his sly lies,
The Trickster god allowed a victorious smile to grace his thin lips,
He let go of the shimmering guise, letting it slip away from him,
Laughing a hollowed laugh, that filled the empty throne room,
Kingdom Come; the era of Loki of Jotunheim has indeed finally come,
And all must bow down before him.
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