by Nick Gisburne
The slicing of a nightmare, with a knife,
Returns my soul to strange, exotic skies.
The pulse, the pain, reanimates my life.
Awakened from oblivion, I rise.
Whatever shape or shade I stole before,
A thousand years have twisted it. I see
A world I do not recognise, but more,
I find a place to finally be free.
The creatures I encounter, freaks and fools,
Are thirsting for a purpose, for a prince.
Insane disciples, simple servants, tools,
Are spineless, all too easy to convince.
In time, when every nation crumbles, dead,
Another, stronger species will be bred.
