O Fake leader

You dare to raise your arm in pride,
But this same arms we once did guide.
Each trick you flaunt, each clumsy game,
Was born of us as we lit that flame.

Your every strike has met our skin,
Yet pain, to us, is strength within.
We wear our scars like golden crowns,
While you still chase our hand-me-downs.

At just our name, the bold have fled,
We’ve danced on graves, and buried dread.
We've faced down masks like yours before —
And left them shattered on the floor.

We watched you move, we saw your thread, And laughed at lines we once had led.
The maps you walk — our fingers drew,
Your face was shaped by what we knew.

You think yourself a master now,
A juggler with a painted brow.
But kings have knelt at moves we made —
We ended games they never played.

The echo in your voice is ours,
You stole it from our thundered hours.
The verses that you chant with pride
Were born from fires we never hide.

So test us — we don’t fear your storm,
We built the winds that break your form. Now look — and let the truth begin:
We made you once. We’ll make again.