What is this?
This rush of murderous rage, intoxicating like the scent of fine wine.
Why this darkness closing in, blocking out the light?
I long to see blood flow, as a new groom happy to find a virgin wife,
I hunger for destruction like a caged behemoth.
It seeks revenge like the wrath of Hades.
No! Like a rouge wolf seeking warm flesh,
The insatiable thirst for warm life.
Call me a sharp-toothed humanoid,
Who hungers for red nectar.
Chaos is my home,
Destruction my empire.
My red eyes long to see the life essence drank out,
The pulse of life is my siren call.
Catastrophe lay in its wake.
My fang throbs to sink deep and erase.
Alas! I wasn’t a Gorgon resurrected,
I was a Harbinger,
A Harbinger of Lake Abandoned;
Lord of the cast out.
“Hate is what you are”
Hate? Is this what it is?
How delightful, acerbically befitting.
I was mother’s hate,
Hate she couldn’t handle.
She wanted Hate erased.
I was once her heart string,
Now her heart stings
A festering infection,
She wanted terminated.
“Why am I called Hate?”
I’m Edward, the good vampire.
My vermillion eyes and pointed prongs,
Hunger to suck all the hate.
“I promise, mother. I’ll be good.
Just give me your abhor, I’ll grant you peace.”
A lovely plea from the abandoned.
I know hate, I’m hated,
I see its gossamer form slithering through souls.
Hate is a redoubtable foe, ally or comrade.
A skulduggery being is human;
The harbinger of Loathe.
A frabjous act when a human suffers,
We gather to celebrate.
These harbingers like bevy of detest showcase act of Macbeth in unending tears.
“I’m Hate, No! I’m hated.”
I will continue to hide in Phantasm,
Seeking the next harbinger to erase.
I died from that hateful mother’s maroon.
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