The Art of Minute Control

In a grand tapestry, threads tightly weave, A design of control, a sleeve of deceive. The spinner of webs, with meticulous hand, Where each silken strand obeys his command. Yet, within the loom where fates intersect, Tight grips can unravel, prosecutors dissect. A caution to kings with scepters so fine, Even the mightiest fall, by their own design.

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