When I see those cursed and blessed entwined in conflict,
Curiosity swells within me like the tide.
As I watch my kin, those marked by fate,
Turn their backs in unison to deny my existence, I feel adrift.
Raised as a monster in a world that revered strength,
I came to realize: their strikes, though cruel,
Were but twisted gestures of love—
Agape, in a fashion all their own.

Yet as the years unfurled, that warmth grew cold,
Unnecessary, a burden I could not bear.
I sacrificed all to satisfy their need for dominance,
Shattered traditions beneath my four arms,
Accidentally crowned myself a god in their eyes—
Storge, woven into the fabric of chaos,
An era where my name was revered,
Yet never enough to quell my hunger.

From the shadows, black-haired maidens emerged,
Lust wrapped in deceit, longing masked as affection,
Yet their hearts held darkness, a false embrace.
Idealistic men with eyes that glowed like dragons,
Full of fervor, came to challenge my reign—
I cut them down, their hopes snuffed like candles,
Fighting not for goodness, but to claim their strength.

The era flourished; my mentality spread like wildfire,
Even a thousand years past my reign,
I remain a specter of strength,
Hailed as the strongest, eternal in legend.