Voices of anger and pride

they ring out, filling the sky.

The empty feelings that follow an ordered bride.  

We were brought to this world with no guide.

The strings of Atropas running up her thigh,

She lingers waiting for the stirrings to subside.  

With anger and disregard, he ripped her Bona Dea.

Struggling with the choice, she cried out

With the rising sun setting as red as blood.  

Thank you, I scream out to the glorious,

the proud, the vengeful, The Griffonagious, 

The humble, the merciful, The Fastidious, 

you.