How can someone so cruel
look upon something so beautiful
and command it?

  How can a mind so wicked
with hands so bloody,
  order the creation of something so soft,
— so sweet.

How can he,
with eyes on fire,
and breathe spared for nothing but violence,
conjure such wonder.

He, with malice in his palm,
and solace in his heart.
He carves it fresh,
his soul there, in art.