You claim to love nature

But it never loved you!

You deemed it your saviour

Yet ****** is its precursor!

O poor! O wretched humans!

Your power, your genius: your nuance.


Dear Mother was never your mother

Nor ever will it be your father

For it is a long forgotten answer—

To your mindless blunders.

My kin who all have suffered,

Their hatred shall be your supper.

Greatness arise from the grave of shame.


Like a  hero of a nation whom

shall be the enemy of worlds

hedonistic in power

guised as a seeker of truth.

The ****** then is celebrated hatred.

A peace to one's kin secured into satisfaction

in exchange therefore is piety to chaos

'for the sake of mankind,' he says,

'thus my humanity is the cost.'


The overman from the future concludes:



That 'Whatever is done for love

will always occur beyond good and evil'

a hero in essence shall play god

through love that transcends all morality.