Apollyon

Deep beneath everything,
In the broiling hatred,
Where everything is equally black and equally dead
Where steam would be a welcome relief,
That is where we'll make our home.
We will befriend hate, even as it kills us with treason.

We will beat ourselves with magma whips,
Torture one another atop tectonic flows.
We will break each other in hell.
And learn what it means to be truly broken.

In the heat of the Earth's mantle,
with hammers forged from demon skin and horn,
wrapped tight around the grip with angel's wings and halos,
we will forge ourselve anew.
As one melts a broken sword to form a better in its place.
We will grow strong.
We will never be broken again.

With great dilligence and conviction,
With motivation beyond any compare,
With an urge to form a better home,
we will spread our strength across the world.
We will destroy the weak, the sedated masses.
We will encourage the strong, the chosen few.
We will make the world in our image, a world forged from the ideals of hell and built on the corpse of heaven.

And in our wake, we will see our hypocrisy and the irony that accompanies.