—

They are not of this world,
no living breath their bodies hold.

Down, deep down lies their abode,
where every wicked tidings bode.

Down from the bowels of the earth,
no light, no heat, and no hearth.

Up they climb the grimy walls,
heedless of their fatal falls.

Their glossy smiles and golden face
are nothing but a rotten maleface.

A stench of deceit in their every breath,
their kiss — a Judas kiss of death.

They crawl for crowns of fleeting fame,
at the cost of others’ shame.

Each step they take, a slime trail follows,
dragging them down into grisly shallows.

But the light dawns across the land,
with blazing goodness in God’s hand.

The crawling beasts shriek, writhe, and wane,
ending their insidious hate campaign.

No masks, no crowns, no false disguise —
under that descending fire, the Narcissists melt and baptize.

The light devours their grimy spawn,
and all the creatures of the deep are dead by dawn.