Transgressor

Just another one of my bad sonnets, sorry to keep pushing this stuff.

Transgressor

As I continue to drag this pen and scribe my crimes
I've done but molest this art upon decrepit lines
Created monstrosities that do but maim; distort the prose
Turn the Summer's day bitter, black, and cold
Rip away the heart of 'Amaretti'; sell away it's soul
Paint the thorned poison plant that which was once 'The Rose'
My spirit continues to pour endless transgression
And burn away that which is the world's sole possession

So lock away this venomous tool; separate it from it's maker
Take his hands and his work; leave not a vestige
Execute only it's creator; destroy the fool
Make death to his kind our only message
Wicked eyes when divinity turned may first ugly see
Though souls with such empty skills can only do but dream