Admire the perverse wordsmith
Created with the most beautiful hues
and held together by holy rods
Barely his artistically brilliant design fits
crafted generously by Da Vinci
At the request of the Gods
Now where on Earth shall my throne sit?
A walking parable of good and evil
simultaneously inhabiting a titan out of hibernation
Gazing at his own congregation
until the whispers ceased
parading death with every perfectly placed period
An abomination and marvel masterpiece.
Bullets between the brows
Opens up their third eyes
Petty little vultures circling
Where the corpses lie
Baptized with steel shells
Watch the Angels drop
Barricade the Golden Gates
Watch as his majesty
is in a panicked state
Finally falls to the hands of fate.