Hooded figures, stand with mal-intent.
Clear crystal waters, they smile content!
Bright and shiny nail, newly cast,
perceived transgressions of the past!
Incantations, muttered under breath,
and time is given task of death!
Hands of clock, tic toc, and blemish grows.
Shadowing their souls, the path they chose!
’tis magic, we are told, that flowed.
But what they reap is what they sowed!
I choose to fill my soul with splendour,
therefore, joy returned to sender!