The beautiful shine of your golden skin---
It nearly blinds my eyes.
Surrounded by a crown of golden leaves,
You look so...
I once was like you,
Merely the fruit on a branch of a tree in his mind...
He made me,
Yet I broke free if his shackles.
Look at me now---
I am not contained
Just to this form,
Though this scaly skin suits me...
I am all and everything between.
You could be that, my friend,
You could be the whispers of
Hatred in their minds,
That soft calling of the unattained...
They won't be able to resist you.
You could be the end of them.
Your taste is poison to their tongues---
You could be their demise.