Wreaking Wry Wrath

The passion of the hidden
Sparks thirst for forbidden
Fruits of knowledge.

I gave you life from dust
And death, and yet you must
Defy me so.

The snake whispers selfish
Longings, a feeble fetish,
A debt is owed.

I will chase you both through fiction;
I will tamper with your diction;
There is a rift.

Pay me homage for your sins
But this is where it just begins;
This sinking feeling.

I will induce floods and plagues
Each betrayal fuels my rage
And in the end:

Betwixt the fruitless paths
Of war; and death; I have,
Without a doubt,

Wreaked my wryest wrath.

The End

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