Subtle (A Right to Judge the Morning Star)

Subtle envy: a faint rebuke: a pending hate: a serpent suit.
And bias love, a mirror laugh, the lure of death, a donkey’s
Ass. Reject the fey, but love the myth, my morbid ache, a
Muffled kiss. And spear to pain, the plight of pride, a
Humble heart, prepared to die. But depth the soul, a sparrow
Light, a sullen prayer, the flare of flight. My venom saint, a
Sacred scar, a right to judge, the Morning Star. And perfect
Paint, a perfect plague, the plea of death, the breath of praise.

And envy slight, a faint rebuke, a pending hate, a serpent suit.
My pious plight, the rod of God, the prayer of Christ, a soul to
Laud. And spirit flame, aflare the war, the flux of flight, a
Kingdom core. For depth the soul, the sweetest mix, the
Angel’s cry, and often hiss. My venom saint, a sacred scar, a
Right to judge, the Morning Star.  

Explanation: I am not claiming to be the Morning Star. I am
Speaking to those that tend to frown upon the works of the
Morning Star. As for “my pious plight,” I am referring to people
That assume the position of God unfairly, with bias, desecrating
The sanctity of the calling, the ideal.