Does the tearing of my flesh give you pleasure?
Does destroying my soul make you better?
If so… continue with extreme measure,
With my essence destruction forever.

Pins and needles driven deep,
In the core of man,
So the good they strike and seep,
Can flow out like liquid land.

Spread about the heavens and earth,
Their iniquity in which they crave,
Let them go and give birth,
To filth that is so grave.

Why should man let these fiends,
Run amuck and terrorize,
To pilfer what our nation needs,
Before it bestows demise?

With their dread and our tears,
That is bittersweet and sour,
A chunk of hatred and a drip of fears,
Grow vast across the hours.

Within those phantoms rest a stone,
Within that stone a hero’s cell,
It flows between there all alone,
Inside our putrid hell.

Can we come and muster,
And not go asunder,
For it will be a fluster,
Is it hopeless I wonder?

What guides a hero,
To summon the ability?
Is he taught by a pro,
Or struck by divinity?

NO.

I let the entities in,
And let them shatter my hide,
They rejoiced in their sin,
But ignorant of what reside.

Ripped of my essence,
They thought nothing was left,
But it was quintessence,
They could not theft.


Released it grew to mass heights,
And swept throughout and without cease,
When it reach the creatures sights,
They knew they were decease.

So the things were shaken,
And were about to flee,
When the valiant hero,
Said “Thank You” to thee.

For if absent their morals,
If weak in their reign,
The sense of balance will be little of quarrels,
And crumble its twain.

 
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