Daemon's Mask

The second of the poems I made with the named facets in mind. Subtitled "Loki's Lair." I took a couple years of German in high-school, I'm not good with it, but I remember enough.

Send me a thought on the meaning of life

send me a wish

send me some strife

tell me the things that you rather not say

locked in your head

that won’t go away

and I will listen with sympathisch ear

to your troubles

to your fear

I’ll help if I can, you see, that’s just my way

so don’t shed a tear, and don’t ask me to pray

won’t make life good either way

but I can work miracles

I bet you can too

I can move mountains

and fountains in view

I can make worlds align

off a whim

but to do so I’d have to ask Him

he isn’t my god

nor my devil, per se

Just another mask I play

He doesn’t dance

nor does he smile

his grimace filled right full with bile

mask of muscle, tissue, bone

this is what this man calls home

A handle of steel

looks finished in chrome

the core’s made quite solid

the metal’s of bone

the blade made of diamonds

a small serrated edge

saws right through steel

and foe’s thick-skulled head

He fights for the fun

and the challenge, and shame

so I wear Him the least

but He’s worn all the same.

No sense begrudging him that.