THE MASK OF VIRTUES

I give love — to my enemies, not for their salvation, but to tame the chasms within me. The angel of death sneers when vanity bewitches me and whispers that its intoxications are eternal. I am sequestered, in a body scarred by the blades of a tragic fate, etched in letters of steel on the parchment of chaos. I walk — heart burdened by hereditary sorrows, the poisoned sap of my genealogical tree burns in my veins like a flaming legacy. Misunderstood genius, self-exiled in an era where decadence is worshipped as a pagan deity. I have learned — to cloak anger in the silk of eloquence, to endure human bestiality draped in refinement. Wretched seed, of a void that vomited me onto a planet defiled by the gluttony of the powerful. I have been alone since the womb of my progenitrix. Solitude is my lover — her muteness, an elixir I sip in small doses. The human is paradox: its contradictions beget its conscience like labor pains chisel lucidity. And those liars… they want me kneeling before the humanist idols of their muffled racialism. They sanctify racism — wrapping their hate in republican praise: Liberty for those who obey, Equality for those who remain silent, Fraternity for those who resemble them.