A Death’s Head Moth flutters on your chest,

daubed in ink as black as your rotted heart.

Your sparkling eyes and joyful smile paint

a picture of your innocence, your kindness.

The Moth however knows all and it’s startling

visage betrays your true self, your villainous

machinations and your sinister soul.

 

For your villainy to go unchallenged would

be cataclysmic, as you would swallow the sun

and allow the Earth to perish – coated in ice.

You’re a merciless mistress, a malevolent master.

Walking across worlds, turning day into night, extinguishing

life as if it were a candle flame.

You are a beast, a pestilence sweeping across the land.

 

One day you’re a woman with emerald eyes and ruby lips,

the next you’re a man with dead black eyes and a sneering smile.

You’re a creature that transcends time, space, species and gender.

The only constant is your insatiable appetite for destruction and chaos,

disorder and madness. The seeds you scatter in your wake.

The inky mark you wear announces you to your prey, they cower and run

from the death you nurture.

 

Cruel Death’s Head.

 

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