My name to me is poison on the lips of all that say. It's turns and curves are treachery to me, it rend and flays. I call it then, The Devil's Name. A hedonistic moniker. I wince to hear it said aloud it's taste is harshly bitter.
Why with this handle, I am cursed to live out my days in dread called the word I hate in life carved in the stone when I am dead. I curse the name that did me birth be in heaven or in hell or here on the Earth.
To be called by other words would be a mercy to my spirit. But this plea none have heard as it dries my voice, though wets my cheeks, I resign my head in sorrow save my tongue, which does not speak this hatred of my name.