Death Ray

At Webster's instigation:

DEATH RAY

Your lips,

Up-curled in the razor grin of madness,

Move men to poetry,

But it’s lost in the screaming.

Your eyes,

So sharp and murderous,

Glinting in the ruby light –

But lost, behind your mask.

Your hands,

Burnt by your dire works,

Alive around the trigger;

Their touch is lost to me.

Your heart,

So long devoid of life,

Beats again in bloodlust,

But it’s lost, even to you.

Your soul,

What’s left of it, anyway,

Long given over to death –

Soon lost, when the heroes come.

Your death-ray,

So perfect an instrument,

Shattered on the knee of some thoughtless superman –

Its beauty lost on the world.

But your blueprints –

So carefully crafted,

So lovingly ciphered,

So thoroughly backed-up –

A curiosity for Reddit;

A quest for the great black-hearted.

So your legacy,

So widely now reviled,

Lives on dreams of madness:

That will not be lost.