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if the Judgment didn't lay the blame on me
the defeat
if the Assassin asked for mercy


under a priesthood of disgrace


the Whitish Light of the Icy God
is in love
with the beloved
first blood in the morning


in the pale carnage
short bodies fall


half a shadow
of the vermillion child
glides along the blade-beast
of a bluebottle-razor


in a rusty and purple garden


the amaranth sting whips the shot
and the Martyrdom with the rope flame


if Endless Father shed his own blood
if Heaven had no more blood


Enemy of God
I were a butterfly


Demon of Devils
I accepted
on a whim
the agony and invoked
the madness


If upheld
I swear
the torment
if implored mercy


Beautiful Prince
I tore my teeth
and my eyes


if small arms
rich in blood
waved flags
like butterfly wings