Shackled by these mysteries
the pain pleases him not
His dignity that of a fallen angel
cast out from taboos and secrecy

To walk in the shadows and dark
too see things no naked eyes see
to cast and curse and command at will

Stick to snake
Night to day
Shape to form
He’s the devil
He’s a god

A misfit who once held high ground
feared by the powers that be
But now covered in ash and soot

Black soot, not of mourning
But of loss and banishment
Stripped naked by the uninitiated
Whose eyes cannot see the pain
Nor the powers he possessed

So he prowls with a vengeance
and leaves no stone unlifted
As he stalks and captures
his unsuspecting victims

The guilty
The misfits
The haughty

Only then he becomes free
Sin washed away in penance
Free of his pain and misery