Ballad of a Bad Man

Whatever reigns where Seraphim flame and soar, I beg the, judge not my hand, but what it labored for. No blade was drawn, but wrath still did command, The tears that yearned to guide my violent hand. And I, God help me struck not from hate, But with love inflamed, to seal another's fate. The blood ran hot. It chilled my chest; My brother lived. I found no rest. Weep not for the man who's breath I…