They do not long conceal their face
With deceits framed on inner lies
Who seek to promulgate their aims
With patient work and longing sighs,
Their eyes reflective in their heart
Stare dead into the endless void
Of horrors spawned by theories vast
They would see true, not ere avoid,
The softer ones, the powdered plight
Those seeming meek with cunning tongue
Plan long into the moonless night
To write in blood what they’ve begun,
It does not matter that they bow
To Tyrant Chaos and his Reign
It matters only that they grow
The death inside with bitter pain,
‘Ware those long who wrap their face
With endless craft to gild their goals
Within them they have souls erased
They long the same to you enroll.