I kick down their front door, feeling the hinges snap from under the weight of my heel
The air is light and cool on my igneous skin
These petty mortals will behold my visage and kneel
Weeks of preparation have lead to this one moment-the Dragon preys upon sin

I shoot the father in his throat, severing carotids and jugulars- I am precision made flesh
Mrs. Leed’s screams are cut the short by the bullet swiftly lodged in her lumbar spine
My delight knows no bounds at the spectacle of her struggling-the agony is sweet, the blood is fresh
I push aside the father and enter his sons’ room-the Leeds house, and their lives, are mine

The children are dragged from beneath their beds and killed-I am without quarter, a merciless presence
I insert shards of broken mirror into the family’s pupils-they are nothing but observers, silent reflections of my design
My crimson wings shimmer-a glorious, fiery husk of incandescence
My becoming and their deaths have now intertwined-their lifeblood is pure blackness in the moon’s light
I roar into the night sky with a fearsome flame bursting past my fangs
Look upon I, The Great Red Dragon, and righteously tremble with fright!