V E N G E R (Poem)

More about V E N G E R (Poem)

He rides the storm where shadows bend,
A horned silhouette against the sky;
No guide, no comfort, no gentle end—
Only a challenge, snarled as why.

His voice is steel, his laughter flame,
A curse wrapped tight in royal blood;
Once heir to light, now crowned in shame,
A prince who chose defiance over good.

Where heroes learn, he seeks to break,
Where hope is born, he plants despair;
Yet every cruelty he makes
Is forged from wounds he could not bear.

He mocks their faith, their childish trust,
Their bonds, their dreams, their fragile cheer;
For what he hates is not their dust,
But that they grow while he stays here.

Impatient with the winding road,
He reached for power, quick and bright;
He would not bear the mentor’s code
That strength must wait for sense of right.

So magic bent to fuel his pride,
And magic burned what love remained;
A single choice, once justified,
Left horn and hatred tightly chained.

Now children face him, not by chance,
But as a mirror darkly cast:
For every time they rush, advance,
They risk becoming bound by past.

He taunts their hope because he knows
What hope demands—to yield, to grow;
What he refused, what wisdom chose,
The cost of not needing to know.

The Dungeon Master teaches why,
With riddles shaped to slow the hand;
Venger shows what happens when
One grabs at power, blind, unmanned.

Thus villain, lesson, warning sign,
He stalks the path they learn to tread:
That strength without a tempered mind
Turns living dreams to walking dead.

And when the children choose restraint,
Or trust their bond instead of might,
They heal, in ways unseen but faint,
The wound he carved in endless night.

Venger’s tragedy is the series’ most adult lesson for children: that becoming powerful too early, without patience or humility, does not make one free—it makes one trapped by the very force they sought to command.