You know you can’t widow a bird from its Godhood
When that little lyrical bird dies
it flies to its God; doesn’t drop into the sea!
I was tailor-made to do my duty
You can’t now keep crushing me by throwing chess pieces at me
You can’t even have anyone I love, for with your relentless crimes against me,
you chose to dispossess me. I am not your bird in the bush
It was my patience that got you all your victories
You ought to have no pride in your triumphs because it was simply not your toil
Do you see that even a fake heaven doesn’t belong to you, without me
You ought to bury yourself in the disgrace, before destiny
breaks every accordion you choose to play like it would your bones; Don’t think you can
ponder over your crimes and regret; and solicit my mercy!
I will never forgive you all; not even look back to see you turn into the water of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Lest me and anyone I love turn to salt pillars with pity at your awful destruction!
You have shallow spirits and no soul, that you thought you could let truth continue to decompose!
What remains of you is a shell with no flesh and blood within
If you keep wanting to exist as entities, you will be a reminder of your own death!
Just what is a grave meant for you that doesn’t want dust, but you!
Would you rather feel like grovelling or gravelly in your subsisting any more?
My Gnosticism (not Christian) is not your religion; you are consigned to backwaters
or the deepest deeps in my reckoning! Would you believe that your rape of me
has rendered your impotence?! I am a metamorphosis of purity to purity despite the treachery
and you are a decadence and a forever degeneration! You can’t have my fecundity!
Be gone! Get lost! I don’t want your stench any more!
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