The Fake Isis

The fake ISIS

Isis watches with Osiris by her side
livid at the misuse of her hallowed name.
As crimson emotions,
evoked by some god that her Namesakes revere,
trigger spurts of mutated adrenaline,
to make hands become talons of death
ripping away children’s bodies
splattering blood of forced hymens
that trickle with murdered shame
down mutilated maidenly thighs.

If any god has provoked this,
burn that so called god
and bury the ashes
in the valley of fear
under debris littered with fragments of broken sanity,
beneath tons of pulverized humanity.
No hands of Satan must ever retrieve them
and mold them into his replica.
No Isis would ever revive him,
or replay Osiris’s saga.


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