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A poem. A poem that I wrote in English that was never intended for that class anyways. A poem of Wesker. Enjoy. Yes, a poem.

When a man lies, he murders some part of the world,

The rope that wraps around your neck in which his fingers twirled.

The vat of blood in which he bathes is spilled upon the faces,

Don't doubt his power, don't doubt his lust, don't doubt the evil eye, but doubt the fact that he believes he was given godly graces.

The dead that moan within his ear,

The lies he weaves to those we love are very much unclear.

The hands of a killer the mind of an animal is which we don't desire,

But he'll set them all, running away from the heat that is the fire.

He sets his ghost's loose on us, waiting when we'll snap,

And when we don't he slams his fist and claims it was a mishap.

Plans are made, plans are foiled but he always seems one step ahead,

The demons that dwell within his heart are ones that he had bred.

The source of death that tumbles just short of his nightmarish dreams,

The anger that seethes within is dripping from the seams.

Running up that hill that always seems so bloody high,

He reaches the top, touching the gates but only to be locked, the world that erodes under his feet was only just a lie.

The buildings burn the ashes rain upon the dead-like city,

The humans lost to the blaze are those he does not pity.

The world is ending and he knows this and it only makes him smile,

Yet don't worry about the lives because it will only last a while.

A/N: Wesker poem for the freaking win!