The six million lie

Radiant were the wings of the angel,
dismissed by the blade of the machete.
Elegant in grace, ripping flesh, with every movement of flight.
Deception of the eye, decrepit to the faint of mind,
enduring tendancies of false proclivities exponged
amidst a carcass; filled with the squalor of impure matter.

Take beauty in flight, impaler of the innocent,
crucifier of the realistic notion.

Desguise the demise of the simplicity of truth.
Slashing fields of thought, reaping tortured remnants.
Harvesting in solitude, to share thine acquisitions among,
the void exile of no one.