Wolves in the hoLy sheep skin

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I sit in a contemplatory silence while the wolves close in from all sides

My hand continues to move fluidly along with the ink, so black

The color of their vacant hearts, holes which no green can fill

A vaccum without remorse, no thoughts of others

They are the scourge of Gaia, a plague of the galaxies

Greed is their God, the Holiest of Truths

"Take what thoust has not before that be takenth from thou"

This is their Apostles Creed, their undying oath of self centeredness

They are the center of their universe, the Almighty Creator of unHOLY terror,

The bringer of famine and dis-ease, the Grim Reaper of the Twenty-first century

The anti-Christ of their own making.