#dreadnaught armor

At first, I asked for simple things: A hand to hold, a place to call home. The flame would dance as if it were singing, And I believed I wasn’t alone.

Days grew brighter, my laughter stayed. Each morning felt like clear skies of blue. The words I prayed for, all obeyed— I thought my joy had finally come true.

The lantern’s power fell under my control, A shiver crawling up my spine. Whispered promises intrigued my soul, and I dreamed the world would be mine.

I wished for the ones who mocked to fall, Their taunting silenced, pride undone. The lantern flickered, granting it all, As I cast ruin, one by one.

Darkness crept up on me discreetly, A flash of flame, a fleeting guise. Then all illusion fell completely, And dark crimson proof met my eyes.

I searched every room and called their names. The corridors were cold, empty, and bare. Each doorway held the weight of my blame, And lifeless forms lay trapped in despair.

I gazed upon the lantern’s glow— Expecting murmurs, power, and might. But only my face stared back to show That what I wrought came from my own blight.

Mic, mic in my hand, can I be the person who’ll save them all?

The one who stands when others fall,

Speaks their truth in deafened halls,

And dares to defy fear's cruel call?

Mic, mic in my hand, can I shake the silent air?

Push past doubt’s unyielding stare?

Not just shout, but make them care?

Turn hush to thunder if I dare?

Mic, mic in my hand, I now feel your weight,

A force to be reckoned with, it can change fates.

With you in my hand, let us dictate,

To break the stillness, and make things straight.

Mic, mic in my hand, are you ready for my stance?

Let us protect them and be their lance,

Act as their voice to give them a chance,