Victory, born out of Flames.

Keeping my lips shut

you might as well sew my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

I bite back the words of spite I'd love to spit,

like a cobra spits at it's victim.

My only wish is to have you die.

A slow painful death,

worthy of Satan himself.

I'll keep my distance for now,

But mark my words

I'll haunt your nightmares.

You insist on this ridiculous dance,

so I'll do my best to lead you off into the abyss.

My hate for you surges through my body.

My anger courses through my veins.

There is so much I would give to have your blood on my hands.

Sell my soul to darkness,

To watch you writhe in the fire deep within.

I'll keep my pace slow, for now.

I'll breathe deep, till peace washes over me again.

Though I know it won't last long,

Your face makes me wish to rip out your lungs,

Your eyes, how they linger upon my rebel posture.

I'll do everything in my power to demean you,

You insolate bastard.

How I hate you,

How it burns through my being like a raging fire.

I'll wait, soon death will take my place.

And I will be victorious...