It has no name, no face

Yet tis one I know well

For its venomous hate traces

Wounds so fell

Across its victims when it befalls me

It rises without warning, drowning out

My reason and morality

And with my lips it raises a shout

That curdles my blood, but for now tis not mine,

The beast has taken control, it has not remorse

It comes to aid in the fight

It lingers to allow the blind to force

The distasteful out of Eden as they see fit

For they misread the new scripture and translate how they wish

To see the world. They wish to prune the tree

And make it tall and slender, without care that

Buds and seeds are felled in their pursuit

Of perverted perfection that

Leaves only the over-ripe fruit