Is this poison running through my veins?
Or is it the trail of a flame,
Engulfing my fury at your treachery
Which needn't be boiled or braised?
The soup in which you feast
Is littered with only falsehoods.
A follower of the black path,
You knew were it lead, you understood.
Now you take a march against the truth,
covering your lie with false attention.
You lead the rest down that path
Where the end is but contention.
Your deceit will not be unanswered.
I cannot leave the truth
To ensure a smile from the lie.
I throw you a book of proof.
Nothing shall be left in the dust,
For the truth will prevail.
