They tell me that you bleed in black,
Darker than onyx nights and stygian skies.
Ruthless is the smile you adorn,
Dare not look into your soulless eyes.

Nimble plunges, scarlet sponges.
Garnets of screams and blood and cries.
Rusting victims, raw carcasses.
Whispers of wordless goodbyes.

Plotting downfalls, scheming ends.
Every detail so precise.
But tell me that you bleed in crimson.
I will eat up all your lies.

You stand atop, victorious.
Immune to all men, all knives.
Garnished with a soul, or two.
In silver ichor, your hellhound thrives.

But in the end, a slice is all.
Oh! so mortal, you cowering mutt.
No bomb, no sword, no noose, no lance.
Your demise,

Is a paper cut.

°×°×°×°×