You don't have time for fancy poetry.
It's almost as useless as those
arm-swing flappy things on mailboxes,
assuming you even knew what those were,
which you don't. Trolls don't have mail.
Mail is almost as useless as poetry
to them. Poetry is the swing arm flappy
dealy of words, and mail is the red
tilty lever doodad of giving people shit.
Frankly you don't know about things
skimming voids or grazing hollows or
whatever. You've got AMBITION.
You were meant to be a bigshot.
To be in charge of something huge and
really important, and to be totally
ruthless about it. You just haven't
found the dominion in which you're
destined for greatness yet. Or even a
vague concept of it.
You haven't found your purpose.
But you will tonight.