The path might turn in sudden twists of irony.
Night turns to day, dark turns to light.
End to the beginning on the other side of right.
Wielder of steel, tier of ropes.
The hooded slayer without shame and without hope.
To live the role of a hangman at display.
Come see the play of wicked irony.
For the joy of the Carnival of Disgust.
Lonely he walks, outcast of shame.
Fearful and spat on yet respected for his name.
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