Naive, infected little mongrel
Your half-witted Pollyanna outlook is shameful
You wear a smile like a scar
I'd rather you cut the lips from your face
Wear an eternal, bloody grin

I hope you see that death is powerful
I hope you understand that you are nothing
I hope that suffering finds your doorstep
Walk into the flames and let them singe your flesh
Break the sinew and bone that give you motion

May an arrow find its way into your heart and out your back
Smolder beneath a pile of burning coal
You will see that the world is a thorn
This life will crush you into dust
The dirt will claim you as its own

I wish to see your blood run like a river
I wish to see you destitute and broken
I wish for you to experience colossal, unremitting pain
Open your eyes to reality, then gouge them out

Where is your smile now?


Penned by my hand on the 5th of Mayan, in the year 652 AF.