the saint
known only as V
was a cruel
conniving bastard
he would lure
lost souls
into his home
with the promise
of sweet confections
flowers
chocolates
bits of poetry
were weapons
in his hands
he used them
to fulfill
his twisted desires
his lackey
the fat cherub
would unleash
with his bow
upon the innocent
together
they built an empire
playing on
the emotions and wallets
of desperate people
not a saint
but a monster
bedazzled
in emotional loss