And he finally bore his fangs.
As they glistened like porcelain in the moonlight,
He felt no satisfaction.
A moment of unctuousness
Did not yield the power to ameliorate his soul.
As he circled and sized up his prey,
His ferocity went unnoticed
By the blinded unmerciful eye
Of his former Beatrice.
Unfortunately for him,
This Beatrice did not save him from exile,
But rather fed him to the inferno,
Offering no Virgil to guide him.
With ill fate he silences his mind
With false thoughts and empty promises.
A truly meaningless existence
Thrust unto an aching beast.
