The Ogre Kings

Ogres gather 'round luminescent screens,

Their laughter permeating empty rooms;

Pitting lie against lie; skill against skill,

Or lack thereof, as sweaty hands falter.

Noble lepers, to what is owed the sense

Of majesty in absence of greatness?

Neither skill, fame, nor virtue doth impart

Gifts of truth in delusions of grandeur.

To the outside observers who offer

Silent judgment on poets' intentions:

Think not of these words as written in rage -

The man behind them dons ogre skin, too.

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