Told you to leave, our lovely lord of home,
Unable to bask in your audacious pride;
You dimmed my wretched goddess—one who bore weeping life
Religion worthy, as though it was your strained role,
So let’s create a cult; a sculpted path to follow-
And our naïve leader we told you to fly
Your impressionable look at us: wry,
Partnered insanity, commendable.

My lord of home is naïve, lovely, insane,
Seed of tainted bloom; you brought painful life,
And you have sorely attempted love, the still
Blistering heat of cigarette on skin
Yet I asked you to leave without sigh,
My murderous savior of swaying self.