Bitterly chomping down to the bone, my god man, don’t you have pity? You horrible bastard, forsaken son of her majesty. She flung onto us you’re misery, through cosmetic actions your born, chaotically mixed with deviant precision; violence rapped in a northern storm. Joyous I wonder, are you full of glee? Does your raise of terror give you pleasure? Do these deeds please your mother?
On the twilight of the year you arrive with your silent death, little seen nor heard just your furious assault felt. You easily slipping through the careless openings left by a arrogant men. A! -But first we fight to preserve, at much cost we retract to prolong our sure death. Few stand and face you down; fools only partake in defiance of your humbling devastation .
Fancily dressed scholars with crystal balls, so called educated minds of the ages pile up loosely found evidence patronizing your supremacy. They sit tall, predicting your arrival with contempt for your wreath.” Like Clock work” they say . They give you pleasant sounding introductions so to rob you of your power. Calling you old man, as if you were a toothless mute waning in the corner.
Almost jestingly we search for protection. Constructing faux ramparts hoping they insulate us from your hostility. We barricade our doors and turn down the lights wishing you will vanish in the night. . A sympathetic assassin at end your pleasure does not derive from our pain. Slowly chipping away at our armor, waiting ,bidding your time. Like a cunning rapture you await your moment constantly pecking at the cracks. Before you roam into the hills searching your next meal, they are at work sounding the alarms. They close the blinds tight and huddle around the flame awaiting your departure. Everyone predicts your swath of pain, how timorous you will be and how they will duck your swing.
I am not the fool, I hold you in immense regard. Do not take me as a foe; I truly admire your toil. I kneel at your feet in aw, begging you to teach me your powers. A renegade surely you are; taking from you’re behavior. You seem to find your most joy only when there is no father. Can I ask ? Why do they cater soul-y to the others, does that not make you angry? You’re Mother and Him, giving them all the attention! What do they possess that has you lacking? Nothing! They are but children! You’ve been there from the start a faithful son as everlasting. Flora gets all their love warmth care and admiration. Amber that bitch, who does she think she is? Flaunting her carefree existence . They are treated to the best, wildly running with little care. They have all they’d ever need but greedy they steal what belongs to you. How can they not see your power, you are perfection in everyway!
Why- your mere presents makes the ground turn hard and water stop its flow. Your weight of nothing carries more destruction then all of your siblings combine. But still you are doomed to wonder this earth restricted by chains, shackled from the very reason you were given life .
Why do they hate you so, you are just acting your role. Born a monster to this earth and hidden away like a failure. Chained to the porch like a dog given just enough rope to chase the rabbit. So my dear GOD case your grasp afar and break those chains that bind you. Exact chaos on this land show Mother and Father what their cold hearts have done. Sweep across this world in a furious wave , freezing all to their winters grave.