Hate

I tread with hatred in my step.
I arrive, with a burning heart.

Return; to take back, what is mine,
And come to tear you apart.

Your eyes were a tint of viridian pale,

As you stabbed me where I lay.

Plunged a dagger, deep in my spine,

And left, as I rotted away.

But the grim had others plans for me,

So I stand; and do be warned.

No wrath in hell's as blind and vile,

As the soul that you had scorned.

So, celebrate this morbid sunset,

Dance to the mandolin, one last time.

Distance yourself from regrets.

Until my blade cuts through your mind.

I come to guide you towards your end;

A revenge, that I penned in silence.

As I strike up a bonfire of intent,

To sever the strands of your existence.

Do not grimace at me, when I say,

That my hatred is a virtue.

Turn, and look me in the eye.

And I promise, that I will hurt you.

And when the war-horns stop to sound,

Your destiny shall be addressed,

That pride shall perish underground.

When on your heart, with forced finesse,

My vendetta; I would finish to paint.

Without pitiful mercy or rebate,

And then shall fall, the mighty saint,

With this blade of mine, that I call "hate".