Climb down off your pedestal,
and witness the suffering under your feet.
Hear their wailing and pleading,
watch as they are engulfed by your deceit.
Pain comes in many shades,
I am the Artist, brush in hand.
Let me paint for you an ending,
that even you can understand.
A tapestry of decadence, eaten by decay...
tortured by remembrance of this reticent wordplay.
There's a fevered portrait that I'm creating, only you can decide it's end...
The masochistic masterpiece of a soul without a friend.
