I’ll fall again to my very might, 

And from my eyes again that horrid light, 

Beams, unseemly for a woman, 

A woman of my beauty, of my stature

And I’ll tell my self once more

That if it were truly that wrong, 

So lightly they surely would not fall. 

I do not, nor will ever deserve to soar, 

Much less that it is only I that can 

Can feel the wind beneath my feet

Can leap such towers, and with ease. 

I’ll ask my self then, 

Isn’t this what god wishes for me?

Why else has he made such a woman, 

One who can do these things, 

Who can, betwixt thumb and finger, 

Hold the modern world, 

The governments all made by men,

And isn’t it fitting, too,

That a woman would take it by its scruff

And shake it, shake all the money, 

The evil, the greed,

The men themselves out, careening to the ground

Not worth a second glance.

That it be a woman to burn all seven,

The seven wonders of the world,

All built by men, with just her eyes. 

I will think it right when I kill them all,

More than right, inevitable. 

‘Tis my right divine to take your earth

And make it not just for myself, 

But for my daughter, 

And for hers. 

Unless I cease it, 

The noble intent I hold now may only be corrupted, 

May only be the justification of death 

And of a great fire that swallows the world

If it perseveres. 

And whether that or not, is not inevitable. 

I could end it first. 

And only I could.

This gift that God has granted me, 

The strength one would need to end my life.