They Call Me The Prince of Peace.

God of gods.

The world rests in my undertaking.

Total destruction floods the world's morality, and I stand indifferent.

You say love corrects your eyes, yet descended from the heavens, a devil in robes was considered a beauty by you.

He's made you weak.

You're weak in the face of me.

You are all my possessions.

Your life can be taken as I please.

Do you know where your mind stays?

It is in lust. It is in guilt. In fear, anger, contempt, jealousy. And for what?

Your self hate already decided.

Your mind was infiltrated by a gift.

The Trojan horse of self worth overtook you, and as it gave you a glimpse of hope, it appears once again making you believe in yourself.

But inside? You're left alone in a mind without understanding.

Its answers for life are vapid.

My flight to the world lead me to become wise of everyone's abilities.

Your overtaking destroyed my hopes to power.

I made you to be subservient, yet you create activity.

Why look to live instead of serve?

Where did it go? 

The morals you held so dear?

The wiser ones are destroying the empire I've worked for.

The servants' love bled them into submission long ago, but the wise's uprising is starting once more.

I beg of you all to die.

Then I will lovingly decide who thrives and who suffers. 

You will only thrive if you submit to me, your God.

The fear of losing me, now that is beautiful.

When you lose and disarm my power through thought, well you're lost.

So here we are.

I stand, a ruler to the fools.

And you devils who attack me, my ghostly hand will overtake you through my subjects.

They will decide your fate.