You traitor
You traitor, a sorry unbeliever and a sore loser, how do you sleep at night? Where do you get the strength to smile? You traitor, whose mouth mauls left and right, you stalk borer who eats your host, how do you know your victim’s way, how to stalk them and launch a venomous attack on them? You snake of the savannah, a brood of all that is illegal and prohibited. Have some mercy, have some decorum. You ate your mother, ate your father and ate your friends. Don’t you see that you have eaten into your own life? You are the dog that mauled the hen and forgot to pick his teeth. You traitor, a sorry creature born of greed and sick ambitions, sharpen your teeth and grease your palm for the silver coins will land in soon. Go ahead and sell them all, go ahead and give up where they hide and how they live. You mole, know that the ground belongs to none and someday they shall dig you out. Someday when your hosts have their stomach full, they shall seek you, and you shall be paraded before the people you have prosecuted. You shall be made to climb the pile of bones you have incurred and swim in the lake of blood that you shed. For a few metallic clangs you gave up all you knew and all you didn’t. Let’s now see, let us sit down and see where you will spend them. Let us see where you will eat when the hearth dies off silently and slowly. Why don’t you take the rope traitor, take the sisal rope and make sure you find the tallest and longest tree. Sit under it first and let your tears well. Wait till the sun goes down as you rue all your choices. Let their screams of pain torture your soul and the bawls for mercy burn your inside. Let their apparitions roam your mind, but give up not. Stand on top of the tree when nobody’s watching and when the moon peeks up from her daytime slumber, let go of your thoughts, let go of your mind, let go of your body. You will fall, traitor, and though it will take time, you shall finally feel the tug and the end will come. You shall suffer no more, traitor, and your sins shall have been paid for, and your guilt atoned for. Your end shall come someday, not in the hands of man but those of your own. You thought you betrayed us but the only person you betrayed was yourself. It will not be the rope, but the truck full of guilt that put an end to a life you never lived. Look up and see the vultures hovering. There is no carrion, they have felt the smell and know that you are dead inside and soon shall be dead outside. Fear not, let go of all, for your ladder has run out of wrung and you cannot climb anymore.
You traitor, a sorry unbeliever and a sore loser, how do you sleep at night? Where do you get the strength to smile? You traitor, whose mouth mauls left and right, you stalk borer who eats your host, how do you know your victim’s way, how to stalk them and launch a venomous attack on them? You snake of the savannah, a brood of all that is illegal and prohibited. Have some mercy, have some decorum. You ate your mother, ate your father and ate your friends. Don’t you see that you have eaten into your own life? You are the dog that mauled the hen and forgot to pick his teeth. You traitor, a sorry creature born of greed and sick ambitions, sharpen your teeth and grease your palm for the silver coins will land in soon. Go ahead and sell them all, go ahead and give up where they hide and how they live. You mole, know that the ground belongs to none and someday they shall dig you out. Someday when your hosts have their stomach full, they shall seek you, and you shall be paraded before the people you have prosecuted. You shall be made to climb the pile of bones you have incurred and swim in the lake of blood that you shed. For a few metallic clangs you gave up all you knew and all you didn’t. Let’s now see, let us sit down and see where you will spend them. Let us see where you will eat when the hearth dies off silently and slowly. Why don’t you take the rope traitor, take the sisal rope and make sure you find the tallest and longest tree. Sit under it first and let your tears well. Wait till the sun goes down as you rue all your choices. Let their screams of pain torture your soul and the bawls for mercy burn your inside. Let their apparitions roam your mind, but give up not. Stand on top of the tree when nobody’s watching and when the moon peeks up from her daytime slumber, let go of your thoughts, let go of your mind, let go of your body. You will fall, traitor, and though it will take time, you shall finally feel the tug and the end will come. You shall suffer no more, traitor, and your sins shall have been paid for, and your guilt atoned for. Your end shall come someday, not in the hands of man but those of your own. You thought you betrayed us but the only person you betrayed was yourself. It will not be the rope, but the truck full of guilt that put an end to a life you never lived. Look up and see the vultures hovering. There is no carrion, they have felt the smell and know that you are dead inside and soon shall be dead outside. Fear not, let go of all, for your ladder has run out of wrung and you cannot climb anymore.
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