Hell's Beauty

This is more of a dramatic monologue posing as a poem. I wrote this while I was really angry about something, but thankfully I can't remember what. I have a bit of a temper, and when I get mad, I get mad. Writing often helped me release my anger in a non-offensive and less damaging way. I wrote this during one of those times; this is what came out:

Leave me to my solitude,

close and dark in anger's balm.

Wandering among the devil's feud,

I grow weary of your false psalm.

What?! You come to me hither!

To ask why the victim's peace

has slipped from your lowly slither,

and blemished your unholy face!

You attack with Hell's hot dagger,

slicing vein and meat and bone,

smiling in your work; would rather

kill all beauty and be done!

And what?! When lust is over

do you crawl to someone new?!

To manipulate, to trap, to hover,

blotting virtue's image askew.

Few witness this dark masquerade.

The fire behind piety's mask.

Taking part in the master's trade,

and you would shrink from what he asks?

Originally I had a different ending but I think I like this one better. The original went like this:

Taking your part in the master's trade

and you would shrink form what you ask!

I felt that it convoluted the image that evolved throughout the rest of the monologue and slowed down the emotion. The new ending makes much more sense to me.