What Is Chosen Poem by Saint Cynosure

Evil is the joy in heart of every wicked beast
That's lays their soul upon the mat with tears toward the east
That praise the stone to crush the head of love that bares the truth
And fills the belly full of blood from all forbidden fruit
Minus wisdom minus strength they prey upon the meek
Knowledge is not far from them but that they never seek
Hell is all they will receive that gift is from their father
They never will receive the truth that's offered so why bother
They sleep in beds of wickedness they bathe their souls with lies
And suffer is the torture forth which starts when their flesh dies
Cold has ice inside their cares their stares are blank and frozen
But this is what they've chosen...