How many lives can you sacrifice
To achieve that treasured goal?
One
One hundred
One million
All told…
How cold?

How many innocent homosapiens
Can you deem expendable
How many human or extra-terrestrial souls
Can you forfeit to the proverbial devil
In the name of your bloodline
The jaundiced changeling vine?
How many people
On the shadowy steeple?
One
One hundred
One million
All told…
How cold?

What is it worth?
The grandiose time warped illusion
What is it worth?
The final solution
Can you gaze upon a sea of frailty
Your fellowman wall to wall
And summon the dragon that devours them all?
All told…
How cold?

What is it made of?
Your sense of loyalty
To your reptilian progeny
To your humanity
Is it reinforced with crimson steel?
Is it hollowed by the compassion
You constantly feel?
Can you fly away and not a damn word say?
All told…
How cold?

Isolation
Manipulation
The unquestioned devotion
To the stuff that's visible
To only a select few
If “IT” is there for the taking
And “they” all have to die
For a new dish in the making
Can you turn around
Without a sound
And release the bloodhounds
From beyond the pearly blue sky
And listen as an old world dies
With a wry
Twinkle in your malevolent eye?

All told…
One
One hundred
One million
How cold?
Mac?
How cold is your blood?

Very…
Very…
Very…

I am the malefic versifier
NecroWmancer