You wanted to fondle his wings.
In spite of the fear and the hints.
You heard in the twinkling Night
the call of his wounded Pride.
He took treasure
and carried away.
Like diminished mantis who's kneeling to pray.
no, Not Today,
yet the teardrops are forced to obey.
Now this slave of his acted out sorrow
will portray you 'a brighter tomorrow'-
a well-beloved dish of his worm-eaten rind
that was so often served to a virginal mind.
The fairytale story fulfills with the rage,
You see black abyss on this unsullied page.
Doomed to destroy
Damned for disgrace
like tenuous soul, lost in the menial blaze
left in Lord's inn where the bitches create
overcast pictures of Funeral train.