My sweet child,

I have not forsaken you.

The dark and darkness have backstabbed you,

but that’s the fate of divine light.

Divine’s warriors keep it bright

for others to see

walk through fire

so others may get it easy.

You~ my child,

have the purpose to pave the way for many.

 

My warrior—

friends who got you as a blessing

threw rocks and hid their hands,

sinned and blamed it on you,

lied and spew filth on you.

But my chosen ones are my lotuses.

I, your Lord,

know your innocence, purity,

and overflowing heart

full of love and magnanimity.

I see your loyalty.

 

Where they backstabbed you,

I will grow angel wings—

not because how lovingly you treated your friends,

that’s how a human is supposed to be.

I bless you with wings

seeing how

your pure heart sings prayers for them

even after how they lie,

make up stories

wishing you a deadly end.

 

I heard every prayer:

“Lord, some of them are under spells,

they are brainwashed.

Guide them, protect them 

enlighten them.

But the wicked witchy mastermind—

that’s how she has always sailed through life.

This is her being.

The darkness she carries is never ending.

Even if she wanted to,

she couldn’t ever change.

All that witchery is demonic

and one day karma will make her pay.

 

I want no energetic cord,

Dearest lord, it’s between you and her

Whether she gets her karma today or later

I’m your daughter,

and so is she—

or she belongs to the devil,

because she torments people for no reason,

and those even more

who had nothing for her

but love and pure intention.

 

Homes that welcome people like her

get served potions and slow poison.

That kind of evil doesn’t change,

eviling since a few decades

spared no one.

Greed, jealousy, rivalry and competition.

 

No good person can do such harm

to so many,step by step

and for so long,

She and her blood sit

with their hookah lit

Mock, laugh at their victims

Confused cowardice with wit;

 

in secret they unmask and finally relax

How after a long winter, in the sun we bask;

only time they dare be themselves

No conscience,

no soul—

Two vessels carrying entities

from decades-long spells.