31Dec/100
Fornication Upon Consent of the King
Tainted sickling.
Suckling feeder,
yes, You; that high esteem,
your pitiful narcissistic indulgence,
i beg you thrust toward your becoming blade;
impale yourself,
slowly but ne'r to die upon it directly.
Thus, that I might enjoy your pain,
again,
shall mine transform to beauty
in that wake.
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