The ground, ever

so fertile for doubt, 

breeds the spawn

of Set, to be fed

on the mead

of ill will, so 

as to beget

that stealthier

form of harm:

it won't feast

upon the ruin

of its kin, but

will instead beat

the kettledrum, 

and have the 

hounds of hell

march willingly 

against no other

but its own self...