His Dark dance

To he how makes himself last
Can hand a taste of the righteousness
But first, he shall stand and forget the pestilent past
And to his faults, he will confess

The deadly distasteful bite of the dreadful cold
Can send the most peaceful of men enrage
And shall make the sickly-sweet taste of revenge more bold.
He who is in blood filled rage will rot in his makeshift cage

Will he feed the beautiful hounds of hell
Or shutter in the secret silence of the dreadful fear
To stay hidden inside his hollow shell
And never shed a single petty tear

Now, we have set the scene for another day
And wrote the script for another play