Unbeknownst of the life they propone to,
In Retrospect, for the time, like wandering souls,
To whom, they torment thee, granting severed, blunt hits,
To none, what it refers, they enquire, to name, jesters, foul gits.

To, Spoken in words, impotence,
Thus Bearing, Honing in Silence.
For come, as it may be, Ignorance and Pride,
Thee two Masters, trailing ahead, damnation awaits them.

For when the time comes, Hell awaits, Devil himself' scoff,
No place, to hide their, regimen pasts, thrown off.
Callous critters, writhe in pain, For no one, remembers,
Then burn in hell, in the flames, like embers.

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