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Well, everyone was then quite accostumed to the tender relief and the cares of this shepherd

To their cuspidal and rough fate I opposed sweet softness, a grand pastiche of fire and daggers

Alas, am I not an aesthete

I, that I cured this itch and took the time to see it all consumed?

Leered their crudity but lingered not before grace mortified

Distressed not, humility’s been shipwreck in ein augenblick

I brushed doubt but just with fingertips as a momentary eclipse

Meekness, what is meant to be worth for?

A morion in words for a grudge cloaked in silence

Vulgar and inelegant their design of sadness, their prowling disease as their unseen wonders

I, felt a flicker of despise then despise unmasked and turn to be a subtle, tedious hate

I found remedy in contending their poor flesh to the flames

Haste! Weren’t they prepared to share the suffering and the bane?

Smoke was my cadeau, as a monument to their disgrace

Feeble and inadequate their bodies danced and spinned like puppets

A Carnage worn of melody

An auspicious disaster

Ferocity became an izzard among the multiple means of power

And the cither sang…

In Truth, could have I raped this beauty?

Have I forced this perfect glowing?

Hiding under abomination here’s a godlike display of domination

Crackled the whole night for this improvised dawning, which I yearned like a tricoteur as a pledge to my glory

A bruise in the sky for a swollen heart, a chant to restore me, a poem sublime

Sear it, sear it pain, scar their weak delight

Forget all their names, set this blight to fire, to burn!