Another year for the immortals
With celebrations to conduct
And future members to annoint –
To triumphantly instruct

In our secret cult of cults
That raise unwilling men
From their decaying slumber –
Snatched from the Lion’s den.

The horrors from their faces still
Echoing in darkness of a past century
These actors in ancient entertainment
Bring us all our revelry.

So pour the wine, my dear,
And watch the disemboweled writhe in pain
For dying is an immortal’s pleasure
And the beauty of the insane.

Trembling, fearing, humans pray
Like cowards with moral decay.
Oh the stress and pressure highly odd
Of being a Destroyer god.

From keeping track of prophecies
To tact and strange diplomacies,
A chosen few are cursed to trod
The path of a Destroyer god.

While every deity and boss
Gets admiration and applause,
No god nor mortal dare applaud
The works of a Destroyer god.

Lonely, grumpy, tired of life –
In hand, my sacrificial knife –
The destruction, far and broad
For I am a Destroyer god.

Not your mother’s soothing voice,
Not her gentle lullabye
No comfort as you wish for death –
That I would let you die.

She never taught you right from wrong –
That conceited selfish whore
The respect you never learned
and will not matter anymore.

Not your wife’s angelic touch,
Instead a blade against your skin.
It never mattered how you conquered,
Just that you would always win.

Not the courage of a man
In knowing death is near –
No song of comfort in this night
Shall reach your waiting ear.

I never really questioned
Responding to my dagger’s call.
Death’s angel beckoned in my heart
Demanding your torment and fall.

Sometime we may have been kindred
Sometime we may have been the same
Now you will lose more than you thought
On what you thought was a game.

Not your father’s searching –
You know he never cared
Yet you hold on with dying hope
To what little time you shared.

Did you know how this would end –
Of everything you never learned
How they would find your body here
Disfigured, mutilated, burned.

I am a mediocre moment — unnoticed
by a world eagerly chasing milestones and memories,
lost between the greatest and the worst,
ever-present, overlooked, uninspiring.
I am a mediocre moment — a forgotten
silent chill before rainfall,
a ray of sunlight in a cloudless sky
a subtle breeze on the third week of summer.
I am a mediocre moment — forgotten
and routine, ignored and uncherished
yet so predominantly present here and now
and I wish nothing more than to be as I am.
I am a mediocre moment.