Cowards cloaked in the safety of shadows,
Hiding behind fictitious names,
Preying upon fragile hearts,
Words laced with venom,
Their hands stained with tears.
What kind of monster knows the wound
Yet rips it open?
What kind of soul sees a fractured heart
And snaps it further still?
I dream of justice
Not swift or merciful,
For that would be too kind a punishment.
I dream of a slow justice, slow as molasses,
Seeping into the safety of shadows they know,
To bring an inferno, unyielding, relentless
To mirror the agony they sowed.
I will tear down the heavens,
I will shatter the earth
To find them, to use them,
To be used as kindling,
To remake the world in flames.
For the world has been far too cruel.
Every ember would sing of her freedom,
Every ash a testament to their sins,
Every cloud of smoke a warning to them all.
Your suffering will not be quick
Oh no, death is far too kind.
You will feel the weight of despair,
The suffocation of regret,
The searing of your sins
Carved into every breath.
And when I hear them plea and beg,
Cry for the Lord to save them,
I’ll ask if they think their penance was enough,
If they regret what they’ve done.
And when they say yes,
And ask for the sweet release of death,
I’ll rejoice as I am the last thing they’ll see
The gleaming smile looking back,
As their light leaves their eyes.
