While there are those who Fight for Faith or Such,
I live disproving it Exists not by Choice.
My religion was never a Paradise.
I fight off Censorship I take the Lash.
I do it to Prove I didn't Curse Love
Nor did I adore a Mass Sacrifice.
So many a Child to be Versed in Rhyme!
Do what they must while Alive, I Lull Them.
I pull them toward my Bosom Death Milk.
Do as Life would have you do Instead, Kill.
TO Kill is to Kill Ritual while
There is a Reaper to collects its Quoatas
Enemies are Many to Each small Soul.
Proportioned by Love, is a Child's Howl.
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