..."yet all whores will plead when the price is high enough" |
This is my first (and quite possibly, ONLY) attempt at a systena. Victory I've sent another to the city of sin. Her sigh (Oh that sigh!), still echoes in my ears. My victory is her damnation. My solace is those eyes, her eyes, their silent plea is so inviting. I pluck them. Quickly, quickly now, before they see. They- the ones who would save these sinners, the ones who deprive me of my pleas. Oh but they are fools! I walked by one, see, a sigh still resonating in my wake. He eyed me, the pig, and touched his hat. Another victory How bittersweet, my dance with filth, my victory. Oh how I love them! Oh how I LOATHE them! They've got the look of mother in their eyes, therefore they must be sinners. But something in the way they sigh, the quality of voice with which they plead makes me falter still. Yet all whores will plead when the price is high enough. And so, victory is mine in every inch of those sighs, those beloved gasps of air which only they- the sinners who bleed dirty sin, sin, sin can make. An eye for an eye; I haven't got four pairs of eyes to give. I wouldn't, anyhow. They plead with me to stop my madness and repent my sins. Can't they see I am? Each victory brings me salvation. Only through them can I find peace. And vanish in my sighs. No mercy for pleas then. No mercy for them. I shall cleanse the world of all their pretty sighs, and rip out their sinful little eyes. My victory. . |