“Everything I want to hear, or afraid to
Spoken with sweetness, I’m lied to
Clothed in harlot’s dresses, draw me close
Words sweet in duress, imposter I chose
Winking with sultry eyes, words conceal
My ruin never to come, imposter revealed”
Sitting right next to me, I know what you just said. How can you just smile at me? What hardness must come over your heart to slide the knife of hatred and slander through my ribs, pushing deeper with every traitorous word? Taking joy in my pain, clapping your hands in my suffering, slow yourself down. Today it is my lot to take on these trials, but soon, my Judas, the dish of pain will be yours to savor. Your punishment will be sure as the rising of the sun; and gradual though it may be, the full heat of the day will bear on your life, burning the flesh of your cowardly soul. Joy is not mine, as it was yours, to see suffering, I wish for you to learn the error of your wayward tongue. Perhaps you will grow, or perhaps you will perish; karma has you pinned down now and soon you will see, with vivid detail, the writhing of a suffering a soul, for it will be yours only to bear that heavy load.