Mozenrath
Into the world
Taught by a mother,
uncaring
Learning magic
came easily
to him
Throughout his childhood
he grew
power, pain
Fueling his energy.
Unloved by anyone
Alone
Growing older,
growing stronger
more painful
every day
his magic more powerful
led on by that which he wished to contain
Gone off on innumerable quests
Yet what a terrible price to pay for power
The gauntlet.
Softest leather, cruelest magic
Contained therein
The agony of the painful secret
Flesh torn from the fragile white bones
He does not regret it
He does not regret anything.
He cannot.
Not even the magic
his art
could afford it
if he did.
When he first killed
It didn't matter.
Taking over
The Land of the Black Sand
was as natural to him
As breathing
Discovering more
Spinning life from death
the Mamluks were created
An undead army to fight
An annoyance found in Agrabah,
A thousand attempts
to destroy him.
Vengeance.
Need.
Fueled by his anger,
his hate
his pain
Even his art it haunts him
for blue-black magic is the color of pain
Everything, characters, situations and all else is © Disney. Don't sue! I'm just a poor broke teenager.
© 1998 mjalta@yahoo.com