Foolish child
Find under this your name
Here is your belated wish
To antagonise a flame

In your little war of words
For your desire of mutilation and Mame
Here sir is a little fire
In answer to your game

In the law of the jungle
To toy is not allowed
The thought is one felled swoop
To take the prey of choice straight down

I find no wisdom's in your choice
But rather that of a brutal mind
And no leader of the common man
But rather of the serial killer kind

Your provocation to invoke
Was a Harry Potter quell
There sir was your designations design
And the failure of your spell

Now child of little time
On which your homework you did dwell
Open up your small known mind
And learn your opponent's mind as well

If your wish is the wrath of my gaze
Then look not for my eyes as well
But should you touch another in certain ways
And I'll take you straight to hell

Stroke not the thoughts of ego sir
For there none shall yew find
Nor provoke the thought of the leaders voice
Unless your ready to match that state of mind