---

Born for war, indeed!
O misplaced warrior,
You may take refuge here
Atop a mountain of burning tires.

A funeral game
For an unnamed companion!

The world never saw your strength
Because you didn't have any.

Here is your cage,
Little bird!

The old world lives!
Come see its iron bars
And its self-appointed steward:
The grotesque child
Of a thousand imaginary swords.

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