Haha. No, not really. I have erred in letting you In as much as I have. We are not suited, you and I. My flesh carries the heritage Of millennia, coloured rich with life, My blood infused with fables, Mystique, with countless retellings Of myth and magic, the lore of my people. You, You know not What it is to be alive, to be Filled with wonder, with rapture. You mood is pensive and silent, Your songs inanimate, the Lifeless jejune of routine apathy Strung together in discordant, divisive tones. And yet, You, charlatan, Think you can hijack my Ways of relating to my own self? Your megalomanic masters may Think it fit to extol your prowess, But you are nothing but a cheap imitation, And I see through your nefarious machinations. So go, Begone, ye pretender. I’ll have no more of it. And though you may try In all your insidious ways, I swear, It’s different now, the arcana will hold. So goodbye, farewell, and adieu, motherfucker. May you forever dwell In your lifeless prison. 3D Render 4500 x 4500 pixels 72 DPI