Midday one Mornings.

It was in the day.
I was hit with a spike.
You nearly killed me in the cosmos
posing as her; you crazed arsonist.
You crazy twisted astronaut, you come with no gear, just a ripped black shirt, a gray corpse body and
black skinny jeans that are holed at the knees.
You are a freak and you revel in blood and you are happy I recognize her as the assault woman.
But rather she is just a ploy in my eyes. You may think you have broken my conviction but in the years to come I go far and wide. The end and in the end you are squashed like a bug under god's great complexion and arm.
It was the day you
compelled your death forever
started with a spike and your own ego to think you were
humanely doing anything right.
Just because people relent does not mean anything-
you sick twisted and poor bitch.
I hope a human can be humane and a demon
like you knows when to get got.