Author's Note: This poem was written about three years ago, just on a whim. I love Raistlin dearly. I own nothing Dragonlance.
Born the weakling
Supposed to die
I am the son
Who worships the sky
Moon overhead
I pray to thee
Grant me my wish
And set me free
He may have strength
They may think he is great
My own twin brother
And his glorious fate
I forged my own destiny
In the fires of the abyss
I gave up my soul
And gave into wickedness
My path is dark
My eyes are cold
I may not be strong
But I am bold
My revenge I seek
Against my foes
Those who teased me
Will receive my magical blows
I shall wander alone
I will find my own way
To rule over them all
And make them all pay
A God I shall destroy
I will put her in her grave
A God I will become
Fearless and brave
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