The gods are angry, especially him
You can see he has no seraphim
He works with anger, frustration and greed
Thrives on them, and constantly feeds
Your evil desires, your worst devastations
They feed his soul with a fascination
Endless ages he has existed
Keeping all the crimes listed
He revels in hate and must
Glorify all who use innocents’ trust
Every abhorrent act he praises
Keeping the hellfires blazing
Observe his presence, but stand back
Or he’ll find a tiny goodness you lack
And triumph as he opens that crack.
***
No Theme Thursday 10.10.24
The Bag Lady 
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