Angels have now been ruined in mire

Looking to my father

I was supposed to love him

Now sorry for his crimes

A thorn of lightning to embrace my side

Laughable torture

Visceral frustration

I, in my blindness confuse cultivation with love

To have my organs harvested

And my eyes turned to stone

This is what we expect from monsters

A masterpiece of violence

There is fear and anger and nothing else

Now we march to the soul of a salamander

I should have known you were empty

Without awareness, compassion, affection or attachment

Only blind hunger