The rage within that I now feel
compels me now to write,
to share a vision, bloody red,
of your last desperate night.
The rage within that rises strong
that rips throughout my heart,
it sings the song of pain and weight
and rips my mind apart.
The anger, despair, knife's edge deep
lodged deep within my heart
compels me now to put pen to
this most accursed art.
For I now write to share my pain
to spread my hate and rage
to shatter walls and countries vast
with bloody, ruined page.
And so I say, to you who chose
to you who chose this path
to you who hatred chose and mocked
you will now feel my wrath.
And when these words are done at last
you will not then survive
the blasted hulk of your rent bones
will shatter, and divide.
For now I summon wrath and hate
to make my message clear;
I summon futures now destroyed
and children, raised in fear.
I summon furies of the storm
and monsters dwelling deep
and now I sick them all on you
to haunt your broken sleep.
I summon demons, horned and black
to scar your heart as mine
until you shake and scream and cry
and drown yourself in brine.
I summon children who you've killed,
or who you've forced to live
abandoned, bereft, starving husks
who nothing would you give.
I summon your own futures now
and those of your own sons
of darkened dreams and lost last hopes
that you've at last undone.
I summon those who you have pushed
beyond their mortal coil
those who you chose to hurt yet more
and in whose name I toil.
You have no future, shining fast,
atop this slope of blood,
for nothing you have built will last
I now summon the flood.
The fear you feel, the rage you hate
that pierces deep inside
I look straight, deep in your eyes
and now the flames arise.
In front of you the flames reveal
the destruction of lives,
the children, listless, learned not,
your symphony of lies.
I sear your eyes with those you've killed,
with what you have have now wrought,
the hearts you've torn and ripped with glee
that you've left to rot.
I compel you to hold my gaze,
the fire in my eyes
a window into deepest pain
reflected in your skies.
I slaughter you with your own mind;
it's terror's truest form,
a demon, dark and glistening
a screaming, tearing swarm.
A future, black, I show you now
with torn and blackened skies
with storms unending and at last
your own children's death cries.
I show you their hearts full of pain
at what you have now done
and I commend you now to death.
Begone, you foul one.
And when you see what future holds
what hearts you have destroyed
and when you see your blood so cold
your soul will be devoid.