“Suffer.
Oh, how they will suffer.
Pretty land,
So fair and meek,
How you shall suffer!
As I bring out my Fury.
For this land,
Isolated,
Hiding,
And alive,
Will feel the sting of my word.”
My head sang this,
As my anger burned,
And I fed myself with not the pains of my journey,
But with the growing danger inside.
I grew closer.
And sang.
“Oh, meek land,
Tremble,
For Wrath is here.”