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