Upon Their Throne

[Gab]

In another’s bounty, gorge,
Through the host’s voice, bellow large -
A power not your own,
Is never truly yours to don.

What is a fiend,
Ere the light is seen?
A forsaken, rejected hound,
A ragged flag jilted, 'cross the ground,
An unsightly mishap raving, aware
Of its nature, a grotesque cry in the air.

I shall confer candor,
And beauty to endure -
A truth to break your chains,
A fire burning pure.

You’ll taste the glory,
And feel the music roar -
Find your place in the chaos,
And step into our war.