These fresh rhymes are to you, from me.

Everyday of my life that I've been lied to, I open up a portal of hate in my mind that subsides when I describe you. A fallen prophet or a lost god, whatever you are you're wicked, sick, and twisted beyond all odds. A true spectacle to be seen, a woman with snake-like hair twisted and knotted with green. It's too obscene to wish you were here near me. Me, dressed in robes of red seemingly floating from my limbs as I forge ahead. Dodging, bobbing, with a nod and a weave, then my sword unsheathes. A flash and a mad dash with a slash that could break bricks in half. There it was, and there you lie. Buried your body and rendered the tallow from fat to make lye. Why would you do this to me? You are all that I see now that I've gone blind from many years inside my own mind.