A sentient consciousness out for blood.

Power at the slightest flick of a finger, but

Without a body with fingers to flick.

One fortunate day, it acquires a Body.

A dying lady… or was it a laddie?

The sentient consciousness will never know.

But the body was losing consciousness,

And it was all the Sentient had. So,

At the last breath, the Sentient lived.

Days later of stumbling around, trying to move the Body.

Months later of accidents, trying to keep the Body alive.

It took the Sentient years before it functioned well into society.

And now the time to conquer was soon to arrive.

The Sentient prepared and learned the world.

It remembered which faces wore power, which first to cull.

To curse the leaders, and turn them on each other,

The Sentient prepared—

To be foiled by this Thing

That kept ruining it all.

The Thing that Hinders, the Sentient’s greatest foe.

It stopped all its plans, though

Planned well. Each disrupted ritual a blow.

The Sentient, powerless

Before the Thing that quelled.

On a special day, after fueling the Body,

The Sentient went to Curse the pawns in its Game.

This Ritual took time, to change the heart of men.

That, and concentration, never to be broken.

At the height of the Ritual, the Thing came to play.

The Sentient struggled, to keep things at bay.

But alas, the Sentient’s only waterloo,

The Thing forced it to go, and pee in the loo.