It is truly the perfect being:

Its armor is tenfold sheilds.
Its teeth, swords.
Claws in the guise of greeting hands.

How does it sleep at night,
This tyrant-
Heaping slaves on the pyre
Just to watch ambition burn.

It is truly the perfect being:

It's armor is tenfold sheilds,
And from its tongue, fire.
~
Could any being verily bask in malevolence?
As if its indifference might pardon it.
This Tyrant.

He is the fatherless.
With the arrogance of a being that insists it created itself.

What can it create?
This uninspired muse rules only barren lands.
It cannot create a thing.
~
When the public speaks the truth,
Simply tear it down..

Dissent, and smolder.

Your thoughts are law, great dragon.
Just spare me and mine,
While I bide my time
Knowing you well,
The enemy.
~
Cover may the everymen,
I show no recoil for
A would-be dragon,

The common man is the consummate dragon -
The poorest excuse of a man.
~
My chest to sheilds.
My teeth to swords.
My hands to claws.
And fire...

Now we can make war.

A titan against a titan.