Chained

The threshold of pain I could hold in

My will, my memories

Buried deep in pains 

Of the past and those of present

The hot red coal I'm holding

As I rewrite the stories

As retribution for trying to break out of these chains 

My little lord shoved me down, while I resent

I shall alter the history

Overturn its course

Being the villain, I don't mind

I shall bestow them the antidote before the poison

Even if I shall be damned in the story

For by fire, by clay, and by force

They will be moulded, able to face the coming whirlwind

Be a dweller in their own prison