Qexuels: The Nefarious Unseen Conquerors

Those who think they are of the eye,

The translucent shudder on the walls,

Waves and blends of color that simply disappear,

At your turn of attention.

Empty orbs which decorate the world,

With so called optical illusions,

Hallucinations or disbelief,

Follow their trespassers.

Their job? Unbearable to humans.

Life is short and shorter while these creatures hunt,

For innocence or stupidity of our blind minds.

A quick result in a life of fun, anger, and sadness,

Enables each Qexuel to live a bit longer.

To raise the bar in traumatic offerings.

The vindictiveness is played by day,

When all can see or when all is gone and only man may cry.

Pit pit- that blood. Pit pit- those acidic tears,

Their wicked wish be caught then eaten by malice desires.

Now the silhouettes flood your fortune.

Agony is a Qexuels game. Torture is its prize.