Behold the fiery beast:
Burning in awful red,
Blinded by, a blinding anger,
Covering his eye, with a mist of dread.
With horns from hell, too cruel to compel,
With lungs from coal, the flames to inhale,
With no sylphs to kill, nor a soul to sell,
With bricks of brawl, he stands tall.
He stands still, between this world;
Between this life, and the realm beyond.
Beyond the shades of light, strife falls aside,
To feed his soul, or his all, to pride.
He takes a hit, and apart his heart is set;
Distant from love, or life to shove
Deep down the abyss, to woe or to bless,
The loneliness within, a heart breakin', yet glory to get.
And when he finally fell, in depth to dwell,
In Paradise to joy, yet was set a ploy:
To break or swell, his bricks of hell,
His rage to free, or fire to spree.
The fuse within, was lit to bruise, and then:
He brought down his wrath upon the earth;
It made some suffer or scream, some smile or grin.
Scratch any hero and a monster lurks beneath.
And then he went crumbling back to hell, on his own freewill,
Six feet underneath, lies a hero, bar for a beast, any farewell.
Hence, smoke and mirrors, so for Wrath not to hole!
And that's the Third One of the 7 Deadly Reasons To Fall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem