Satara Nill

Born: October 1st, 1976 Hair: Brown Eyes: Brown

Born: October 1st, 1976
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Brown

Superbia (Pride)

Satara Nill just couldn’t sit still

as she saw Rich Christopher instill

loyalty among the remaining Boy’s toys.

To watch one of her kind destroy

the fragile balance that existed

between her people that resisted

selling out their souls to live among

the persecutors who had drug

their ancestors through living hell,

exploitation, and degradation of self.

That balance of us against them

the ones that split the One Race into realms

that marked her people with a branding

that disintegrated communities with abandon

and turned us against us, in the name of scraps

tossed to us by those who are never strapped.

How could that traitor Rich see the Good in that?

My Lady of Truth, the Lost Child supports me

in my desire to crush all traitors who refuse to see

that our people are on our own and no one will be

our savior, not even that Boy of the disease

of hope that stunts our descent into chaos

while snake charmers continue to play us

the tune of invisible riches and ill equipped tools

that continue to block our progress from being fools

like Rich that licks the master’s hand like domesticated

bitch that he is, loving  those tales of the fabricated.

Hope is a four letter word for taking it in the ass

and begging for seconds in the name of a class

act of a species that is a culture of self laceration

and the illusion of social touch that is really masturbation.

How can that jerk off Rich see the Good in that?

My fellow Seven, they aren’t my family

they serve a demon who lives for insanity.

But I’m the wolf among this wretched flock

who uses the Beast and its crew as pawns in my plot

To free us all from the separation anxiety

that encourages us to sodomize society

and ream the Great Family a deep hole

where love should’ve been but only the souls

of dysfunction who can’t maintain peace

because our breeds are too different to release

judgments and  hates and reinstate a place

where I can love me without awareness of my face…

Why can’t that bastard Rich be aware of his race?

Categories: Satara Nill, The Piersdale 14 | Leave a comment

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