Their dainty little hands and fingers sharpened the ends of sticks.
Hands of innocence became perilous and savage.
Pure virtuous faces, disappeared underneath the layers of clay.

They were nefarious, odious little beings.
First, there was one chief, and then there was two.
Two tribes, two chiefs.

One tribe revolting with no innocence, the other left with some.
The scarlet precarious hands made marks on the innocent.
The marks, scarred the one’s that had not become completely crude.

Angels became devils and the devils tried to eradicate the remaining angels.
Two of the angels, were destroyed by the devils, one mistaken for a beast.
It was a battle between good and evil; in which vile dominated.