Your flesh, a shrine to my soul
Torn from bone, dripping crimson red
Your time is now
I dream of death on ready wings with nothing left
tortured
terror
tattered
enveloped
dripping
wings
dolls
found
death
bound
freed
feeble
crimson
light
nothing
wrapped
plastic
floods
dream
souls
ready
shrine
humanity
morality
stench
flesh
struggle
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