Part II: The Prodigal Years

The years passed by, one by one
The venom was flowing free in his veins

Nothing could disturb the zealot
And his euphoric life
A slight sense of hazy wickedness was welt at times
However, it offered no disturbance
To his devious ways
The elated life was pleasing and serene

Thoughts or apprehension of a future
Were far and away
Undisturbing to his joyful life and bliss
The venom had surely done its job
Any any trace of discernment was far gone...