Oh serpent a tounge
of fraud is your mark.
False speech lips slither
ill a journey embark.

What’s in your head?
What game is it now?
Mark your prey son for
your fortitude is foul.

Maybe you do what
you do to eat off plates
but lieing I’m finding
taints your ill fate.

A soul is corrupt,
a fiction reeks sewage
that you make ways
in wicked tuteladge.

Work your web to
deceive and cower
in the grip of a wine
fermented so sour.

What have I done to
receive such a spite
as your lies fall apart
a cruelty takes flight?

Twisted your body it
contorts with your lies.
The truth reflects clear
but shut are your eyes.