I am grace, or its fleshless embodiment…since I am not whole, but level and spirited to make my word forceful. Call me evil, for it’s prime legitimacy to deny what’s good, or traditionally so your comfort blackens, and it’s then I am named your cancer.
To those who miss me for their semblance of unique, a quality of their modern dull for which they reach…and it is there I come, based from the shadows as they see only darkness meeting their salvation.
Name me for what you are, not for what I mean or come to settle. My place is based impossible classifying me as anything, or anyone indulged by your feed. I am instinct, or considered thus while you act out in anger, or affection as if it is your only drive. Save for thee, broken from the womb and all that’s innocent, nothing prepares you for these actions, these turnakits engulfing your senses whilst you’re overwhelmed.
Dab my blood from your lips, touching your mind where I make my lair. To whom I swear, as none other can swear to me as promised, human nature as my only gain, and through which I live.
