You embody devils you cannot find,
So you have flaws to blame
For the recklessness you so strongly desire
You embody your lies, and the anguish you kind
It’s made you all you looked up to
And so, the history pages, stamped with your seal
Bloodied and signed.
Makes you the master, the covert emoter
The God.
The manipulator.
Happy Birthday, Iscariot
Betray yourself, that’s all the coward knows to do.
You’ve burned the wheels of this chariot
You can’t fight fire, and then choose to marry it.
Write your history, but your back doesn’t carry it
Happy Birthday, my dear Iscariot.