Father Of Hate Poem by Unic Cjonr

Drums at beat, fires rising at the gates - Three by 6, the number engraved on the gates which cuts heaven down to hell - Quite is the screaming, today is the birthday which smokes at the back, the morning star that bevilled the little devil - the master of disaster, destroyer of our souls, one lost to the multiple of faith, laughter cast to eternal flames were not the script Diabl6 seeked, crafted dead, crafted after - The flow fountains the millenium by the chain, which links infinity, what matters more is less, the end of time will be the end to his crimes - Judged by his maker, what hate is carried by his father, that there is no please, not by his will to accept, a chance, to set the outsiders free - There is one fact which break, the spine of a demon, that which is displayed by the wrath, the anger which burst from an angel, ONE, which cast a legion, from heaven to the darkest pits of hell