You didn’t sell your sister or your mother.
After some centuries of Purgatory,
That might have been forgiven, O my brother!
But what you peddled was Edenic glory
You should have understood. An old, old story:
Older than Gondolin before the Fall.
Traitors like you can never say they’re sorry.
They have to peddle till they’ve peddled all.
What payment did you earn? Do you recall?
From other pimps, whose beards were thick with lice,
You won some words of praise – and, on the wall,
Graffiti: “We wuz here and it wuz nice!”
You were not under Aphrodite’s spell.
I hope that truth will comfort you in Hell.