damage has always been your forte -
an expertise,
your recalcitrant venom.
you annihilate
before they could burn you
and your fortress is painted
in a deep, metallic rouge.

you wear the word 'vicious'
like a crown;
loyal weapon tucked neatly in the
taverns of your mouth.
you are adroit with words, after all.
such a fine weapon,
such a clean cut.

realms bow down, subjects to terror.
sweet vilification's best served
in your court.
not one soul would dare to beard
the lion,
no single breath,
shall make your empire topple.

the caucus adjourns; your grip is slipping
you may be the head,
but we
are
the
body.

your realm will rot
from the inside.