I may have sinned, but I won’t ask your forgiveness.
The truth is I’ve only tried to emulate you,
Acting without scruples in your manner,
But I still stand in awe of you:
How you blaze a trail of ruin,
Leaving flowers to wither and vegetation to rot.
You don’t possess a conscience;
Perhaps that’s why I feel so good
When I slander your name across the universe.
Never before have I sought vengeance,
But I confess now that every wound I inflict—
Stealing what you hold most dear—
Brings a sickening satisfaction to my mind,
And when those thoughts lull me to sleep
They are the best sleeps I ever know.