There’s not enough good in me to refuse
this malicious joke that keeps twisting my bones.
You may bend, mock and completely confuse
But I’ve learnt to harness pleasure from scorns.
Please cease, I cannot look at this abomination,
Writhing excitedly in the despicable morality,
and, may be, you are proud of your creation,
But I’m cutting veins or leaving your wretched gravity.