by Lizardin Bain

Origins

Our pedigree was lost.

Burned by time

and blurred by blood that we spilled plenty.

To erase our names

from the unfair history.

Forgotten minions, cannon fodder

In a power struggle

We did not start nor wanted,

spitting in your lit by glory face, when asked we howl:

“I am Legion, for we are many.”

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