My soul was ripped from my chest, I am so cold. Tortured by figures of my angered creation. Harbored in the glory of Hell, writhing in pain. Hearken the taunts of the Princes of Hell, their gnarled horns pierce through light like a dagger. Serpentine, their intentions vindictive to rewrite the scriptures and rupture the organs of God. Dragged through the inferno, into this sanctum of tears to be drained of all your purity, the work of faith soiled by my hands. You shiver as you realize you have been betrayed, tasted by the charred tongue of Lucifer, buried in this fiery grave. Incantations of imprisonment; runes carved into the flesh of these hallowed men, pressure building in this harsh environment. Pain, the foe of righteous entitlement. You descend, fall into these halls of dismemberment, you descend, a sheep of God torn apart by his holiness. I, the grave robber. I, the unholy slaughter. I, the toxic truth. I, the poisonous fruit. Bring forth this forever lasting misery. Relinquish your hope and humanity, and as the world comes to a close: The pages of our realm painted with marrow of old bones, the blood of black hearts, & blasphemous thrones. The weary minds of children watching fire consume their homes, "So cold, I am so fucking cold."
