You thought it was Stone Hand? Nah man, that’s him
The Critic. Stooping something like a perch-
Thrown, he’s on it ornery and snippy
For a Good in which he does not idle
A Good he longs and kills for, to give for
The testament of man’s upper limits
He can’t be it, he wishes, perfection
Is without limit, is everlasting
Not the consequence of Chaos then the
Victim of his rages, but his master
Critic says, “we’re nothing, you know it,
But be worth the effort it takes to be”
The Critic says it, and he knows it himself,
Can’t stop him from making more from less
PRL Serials 