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Are you cursed, by the symbol, of the root of evil...
Or does it point a way, as if it's a compass needle?  
Maybe, from the darkness, you can't disencumber  
As you conjure the image, of that special, number  
  
In those, macabre dreams, like a necrophiliac's bait  
Do you feed your dark desires, do you cum, to sate?  
Or maybe you transform, into a slasher, with talons  
To eviscerate them, as the blood gushes in gallons  
   
Do the salacious memories, leave you spent, or wet?  
For that's not blood, you've smeared; no need to fret  
But did the fire burn inside, was your ardour vicious...  
Were the echoing screams. disturbing, or delicious?  
   
Never fear, if on someone else's pain you've supped  
As you're inarguably insane and corrosively, corrupt  
But we'll keep this to ourselves and be forever mute  
For evil's merely a hidden number, or its square root