Pity, I could've loved all of you,
It would've been unconditional,
But it has been decided, you shall all be made divine,
And added to my grace.
John was speechless, but he tugged at his collar to free his voice,
Paul lurched forward, flinched out of fear, he didn't want to **** a child,
It was beyond unethical, it was a sin without solution.
Still, he held his trident out in front of him, drawing a line in the sand.
Should she cross it, a hidden song would catch her, and he'd skewer her,
Until she stopped breathing.
Paul clicked his tongue every four seconds, did it without facing her,
It was a small song, broken and indistinct, but it would still work.