With tongues as daggers they chased me away. With venom dripping freely from their odious mouths, they poisoned my spirit. With a slavering yearn they court the fires that burnt the trees of this my kingdom. A palace of nature, now a smouldering void. And on they crept, crucifying me with jeers, no more than a hated canvas of flesh. Silent meadows once blessed and serene now stand as abyssal ruins where plagues of crosses have strolled. Once was I, a servant of the flesh and soul of the world, now utterly shunned and disgraced by the blindness of acolytes of that divine falsehood, a cosmic cloud of smoke worshiped by vermin, a confession of hubris, an intrusion upon hermit. Forever engraved across the grey waste of this world is the hollow mockery of their stain, and it poisons them all.
