When screaming's not enough for me to maim
These foes who breed through phagogenesis
And treat us as mere playthings in their game,
As targets for their darts that never miss,
With hair all white from seeing seven hells
And skin as pale and petrified as pine,
I hide away in rooms where no one else
Unlocks the doors — the master key is mine.
I understand a palace must be swarmed
And sovereigns usurped before the worst
Transpires, with countless others slain and harmed,
But until then in peace I'll be immersed.
When malice overpowers my resolve,
I take a breath and pray my doubts dissolve.