Vipers lullaby,
Rotten fruit-
You drape yourself in falsehoods like velvet on sin,
slick as shit, grinning that goddamn grin.
Your silver tongue? A fucking blade in disguiseÂ
each word a backhand, dressed up in lies.
That smile of yours, pure rot in a crystal cup,
sweet from afar, but bitter as fuck,Â
I’ve learned the trick: your charm’s a con,
destruction wrapped in flesh you play pawn.
You pissed in the well and called it wine,
lifted the glass, said, "Shit taste fine."Â
But every fucking drop burned straight through,
scorching love to ash, like only you do.
You don’t break hearts, you fucking gut ’em.
Dig in deep, twist it slow, then strut from
the mess you made, whistling like a saint,
while I bleed in the silence you paint.
With Ivy League venom, you taught me disgust,
a masterclass in how to betray and combust.
Then, like a true bastard, you smirked as I fellÂ
as if you hadn’t just dragged me through hell.
I don’t wish you pain. No. I wish you mirrors.
Clean, cruel glass, no filters, only errors.
I want you to see the ruin you parade:
a hollow king, crown cracked, glory decayed.
So rot, you magnificent piece of shit,
on your throne built from every fake bit.
My silence? A wildfire that knows your name,Â
and fuck if it doesn’t love the flame.














