Death Beheld Poem by Saint Cynosure

I must confess Ive done again,
what man considers mortal sin.
Traded my joy for a life,
so thrilling is a sacrifice.
All are virgins in their skins,
when tasting of my evil.
For their pain starts,
where my pain ends,
no rebuttals no retrievals.
The things Ive done with my two hands,
sickens dead the most of man.
You cant begin to understand,
the blood upon my fingers.
Makes no matter wrong or right,
everyone deserves to to die.
Judgment isn't sacrifice,
its where that line begins.
Death beheld and you'll know when,
you are a virgin in your skin.