I am many things.
Mostly,
a beast of burden.
I am everything.
Mostly,
painful consciousness.
I am pain.
I am detriment
to my own health,
as well as
I am detriment
to my others.
What do I want?
Alexandria fell.
For what more could I want?
Then, may the flame
burn, ad infinitum,
inhale human conquest.
What do I want?
To keep grandiosity
from obtaining starships.
Or,
Just turn to dust,
As is the prophecy,
Happy the motes
ever did arrange.
