We’ll freeze;
obliterate his hatred
with a keg of sharper, longer nails?
Save the rose, instead, before she falls.
Freeze that place where he inbreeds.
Encapsulate his cousins, conjugal.
This fruit fly seeks the closest mate to seed.
Degenerate, cares not where useless fate
is spread. But history has told before
there’s no Valhalla for his frozen soul.
His seed will fail. His head consumed with hate.
