Strike him not dead,
For he knows not what he hath done.
Feed him the poison slow,
So he may be shown the actions.
Give no consequence with words,
The fire of Action is all the more bitter.
Treat him not with hate,
For he shall feel accepted.
Feed him love in the poison he knows,
For the one he stands out to,
Shows him the blinding light,
Gives the sword that hangs loosely.
Treat a man naught with life,
Treat him with grace,
For that grace is the greatest torture.
For when he falls,
Will Death embrace his final call.