From gods I stole the sun itself; Trailing tail of black and smoke. My feathers singed beyond repair My grating voice, a screech I quoth

Marks dragged deep by claws on floor; A grating at your bedroom door. A name for king of wretched souls; The underworld under my control

We are fantasy embodied. Caves, shrines, castles, seas, and skies are mine to own. Disaster or miracle depends on the tale, but without fail I have a tail.

I am a type of home you might learn of in an American History Class. Nowadays I'm better known for the acronym of what you use to wipe your...

I've shed the blood of more than billions, I've ended their very lines. In presence, I end. In absence, I begin. You may miss me, but still hate when I come. Though sometimes I'm late, I'm always in time.