Used in the old days to brighten the scene, burning bright white, though my name suggests green. Language recast me to what focus would mean, decide who gets glory, and who stays unseen.

Many try to diminish my doings. The cause of a new world order. I bring with me death, famine, and disease. To the benefit of a few and the detriment of the majority. I destroyed worlds. What am I?

I am worn by a man who insists I am he Yet I have no stable form I shift and flow through the calm and the storm I am a mere pattern, yet the wicked curse my design I work to bring down he who declares 'Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

A salad with no tomatoes, but still run red. Stabbed in the back by the one called friend.

for the religious only, a wall felt not seen, a mark that says I don't belong. with the faithful, ignored without penance, I have no hope of return. once I make good, on my godly word, i may return back home with kin. while this hurt more in the past, there are those that still care, and they are not to be deterred. for this is not good, for those understood, and it tears apart extended families. so please do confess, and help to address, the issues that call out my home, please know that this, is sad to exist, for those faithful yet still.