Give me your power.
Your wealth.
For my force multipliers,
Are greater than yours.
Voracious savant syndrome,
Hungry to feast on the spoils,
Of wretched billionaires.
Which ends?
Which means?
I can play The Brutal Calculus,
In lieu of a Spirit Bomb.
As much as I dislike it.
Or shall I offer Machiavelli?
Wolves instead of snakes?
Told you.
The heroes are all dead.
Just us Supervillains,
Trying to salvage what’s left,
Of a dying species.
Let us mourn our lost decades,
Then.
Together.
Before I toss you aside,
In my attempts at building utopia.
Give Me Your Power.
