timid rock
Clad in Orokin gold and glutton’s crown,
Grendel Prime rolls where empires drown;
A feast made king, a hunger refined,
Elegance forged from the savage and wild.
He comes not lean, nor cold, nor clean,
But roaring with life in obscene sheen;
A laugh in battle, a thunderous cheer,
As gods themselves recoil in fear.
He devours armies, whole and screaming,
Turns war to banquet, chaos to meaning;
From gutted foes he draws his might,
Strength born of excess, joy in the fight.
Prime filigree wraps endless need,
A glutton sanctified by Orokin greed;
They tried to polish the beast within,
To crown the hunger, not cage the sin.
He rolls like fate, unstoppable, round,
The ground itself bends to the sound;
Feast becomes fury, fury becomes grace,
A living paradox time can’t erase.
Grendel Prime — not shame, not flaw,
But hunger elevated to sacred law;
Where others starve for power or fame,
He eats the world and laughs all the same.
thorn valley