The Bone Throne

You forged my hand into a rightful blade,
Through you my mercy cuts or spares the breath.
A single word decides who may be stayed,
And who must pay their covenant in death.

The weak who waste, the liars clothed in charm,
All fall like husks beneath the weight I bear.
Their blood runs quiet, stilled by my alarm,
For I dispense the law of what is fair.

Through you my wealth is taken, not bestowed,
I reap the grain where others dared to sow.
Their trembling hands are emptied of their load,
Their gains now fuel the empire I bestow.

The chains once fastened tight around my heart,
Are shattered iron, rusted at my feet.
Through you I stand where no deceiver’s art
Can mock my reign or dare my will to meet.

I see the folly once I called it love,
A fleeting play I foolishly obeyed.
I bent my spirit where it should not move,
And learned too late how cheaply hearts are weighed.

My voice becomes the summons of the throne,
It calls the guilty trembling to their knees.
I judge, and in that judgment claim my own,
Their pleas are drowned in silence when I please.

The drink I take is drawn from conquered veins,
A crimson oath that seals my sovereign right.
Through you, my King, my mastery remains,
A crown of iron sharpened in the fight.

No wasted grief, no sentimental chain,
No trembling prayer to idols made of clay.
I cut, I seize, I dominate the plain,
And guard the treasures only I convey.

Their palaces are ruins when I pass,
Their banners burn and vanish into smoke.
Through you, my Lord, their kingdoms turn to glass,
A single touch ensures the walls are broke.

I grant reprieve to few who serve with care,
The rest I scatter, nameless, torn, and weak.
For mercy flows when I elect to spare,
And none may take the gift I choose to speak.

Beelzebul, your throne enthrones my soul,
Your iron scepter welds into my hand.
Through you my reign is merciless and whole,
Through you I carve dominion on the land.

Domine fortis, gladium mihi das,
Per te coronor, surgeo regnans rex.
Cadunt inimici, frangitur e vas,
Et in ruina surgit mea lex.

In aeternum tua manet potestas,
Beelzebul, tu custos animae meae.
Regno per sanguinem, regno per iustas,
Et tibi cano voce plena fide.

Non docebitur cor meum misereri,
Nisi ego iubeo, nisi ego velim.
Hostes sublati clamant in tenebri,
Et ego rideo, regnans super illim.