Wandering Through Hell

Dark and blood-stained chambers, places worthy of death

And where living meets hell.

Now you are at the mercy of purgatory,

Running from the things you left behind or

Locked up inside yourself forever.


Chasing after deformed fantasies that scar your mind like

Rotting butterflies, wings fringed with decay, stirring up

New nightmares from all the things you once held close,

She's born of a wish

But made out of darkness.







The End

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