What are these feelings even called?
Hate.
Disgust.
Spite.
They don't fit the bill.
To describe all these punks,
I've been wanting to kill.
Every day I wait.
Casting my spells.
Concealing these weapons.
To send them to hell.
I am the nameless murderer,
That doesn't leave a trace.
I am the angel,
That has fallen from grace.
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