Bastardly Cowardly Whore

A Coward you are!
A Bastardly Cowardly Whore!
To you, what occurs happens
But of your life you are no captain.
Slaves you assign to cross that thin line
And do all the dirty perform for you.
You Bastard! You Coward!
You run your self through with your personal sword,
And now have the assurance
That you shall in no way be saved by our Lord.
As you slice at other’s hearts,
You slice your personal wrists.
But while the heart, over time, will mend,
The blood from your physique flows to the floor
Creating all that is lovely
Drown in a sea of gore.
And quickly you see only red,
Not of hate nor anger,
But for the reason that the blood is now more than your head.
You have drowned in you own agonies
But do not even know
That the blood which flows is yours.
In your mind it comes from your victims:
Those you slayed and enslaved,
Yet for each and every death you see
The closer to hell you will be.
And when these of us remain,
Shallow breaths fill our lungs,
Your breath is taken away
As the pits of fire consume your dead flesh.
And whilst our hearts revive,
Yours is hung out to dry.

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