---

You burned a hole like the sun,

darkest light, shining bright

in our eyes.

You dug a hole that fills with life,

careful and slow,

in our hearts with a knife.

I wish your god was real

I know he would punish you.

Your tombstone reads:

"May he rot in death

as he did in life."

Sekhmet's breath

scorching your neck,

her wind runs red,

through your head

drunk with death.

You deserve what will be written.

I wish your god was real

I know he would punish you.

Your tombstone reads:

"May he rot in death

as he did in life."

Your death is meaningless.

As is your life.