Fling yourself at his feet and leave your fate in his sole grey eye
His tree was of the world
but his secrets were his alone    
He wasn't an All Father
His wine was spiced with blood    
Men know the price of madness
but what of boys
Left to shape their bodies in the forge
For some, there had been no hammer
Except the one they held      
No water to cool their molten steel
Except for the well they found
But the fire was fed all day long      
Liquid metal writing on the surface spilling into one shape and out of another
Over and over
No weapon can forge itself
But **** it
I'll try

Stress reliever?
Pour the liquor.
Dream bigger?
Pull the trigger.
Rusty the rowdiest.
King of the Tinkerers.
Grimmer than Grimnir.
Son, you’ll need a ringer.

Stress reliever?
I’ll skip the liquor.
I’d rather lick her.
Villainous like Victor.
No, sinister like Sam.
You slither.
I stand.
Praise Prometheus
or catch these hands.
Understand?