The Splitter

I speak the Splitter’s Creed

Doggerel of Basest men

Feed the Mocker and weep.

I sing the Hymn of Fraction

Debase the Good of All Men

Dig the grave of Peace.

I am fallen from Babyl’s Star

A surly and contentious supplicant

Truth be told, inconvenient.

“The Splitter’s Wares!” I cry

“Too costly for the rich, but you,

O Wretch like me, for free.”

Behold, O Vacuum, a candlestick

A flickerless Fire which glows in you

Fueled by the breath of my roaring.

Cry out, O Rock! Speak now

Or forever be cracked asunder.

The Mallets are at the doorstep.

I drink the Splitter’s Wine,

Too bitter for the Lips of Jargon

And tasteless to the dying breed.

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