The hatred is piled up,
enough to orchestrate a crime
and to hide it in nightmarish metaphors.
enough to orchestrate a crime
and to hide it in nightmarish metaphors.
I have imagined you getting piercing through
the fragility of the roof of your mouth,
until you beg for forgiveness with your really untamed spirit.
Perhaps, flaying would be much better,
but crying will be reverberated through every corner of your long shattered room,
as your annoyingly pleading voice will still be heard.
An unforgivable, hell-bent serpentine, you always are,
caressing the man’s ego extracting his exhaustion,
and me against a fiend in your presence.
Such a soft way to demonstrate hell to you—
as it was not even a flinch, or a poke.
You deserve heaven
appearing reverse,
so the gods you have known
will forbid your salvation.
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