I make this toast.
As I boast in the
reality of my plan,
To foil you again.
With plots of many,
not few and angles
that know what to do.
Sharp beyond compare,
The daggers...
That struck everywhere.
You're my target.
My bullseye...
I set my sights on
you, as you cry.
In desperation and
in need, of deliverance.
None will help, souls
not freed.
So, '2 Your Death'
I'll exclaim once more.
About time I close
all open doors.
No destiny,
I'll seal your fate...
To this end,
You won't be 'Great'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem