Urchin Scathe

You laugh at my scars and leave me to bleed,
The menace you’ve ingested conjures God’s trickery,
The ill-fated fool damned by his shadow in part,
Weak link in the chain, a flaw in his divine art.

No place for waivers, no place for wrath,
Lord of his hive, piper to four divergent paths,
Benefactor, furor, helmsmen and jester,
His is the word and my thorn that festers.

United in blood, the bond of epic lies,
Our surrender and advocate to the frailty of ailing ties,
The holy ones by birth, your sarcophagus of pride,
A mortal your pharaoh, his whisperings your stride.

You walk the rivets with the strings in his hands,
You squander your fortunes at his every command,
How high did you hope for when you walked in his lines?
How far did you fall when you were banished from his time?

The schema your own, but my point of view sublime,
Satisfaction to be yours but the discontent mine.

[Cluster IV]