| Pulsating walls of veins, a chamber made of flesh
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| A blood stained living altar of death and wickedness
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| A shapeless, nameless terror. |
| Voiceless whispers feed the
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| Inner error as crawling waters
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| A ghastly silence — a grinding noise
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| Am I alone here? |
| Is this my voice?
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| Cloaking herds of vermin — stone cold faces
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| Underneath the surface: jet black wastelands
|
| Stirring in the dark; |
| a toil beneath the skin
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| Freezing, cold with poison; |
| a coil of hungry snakes
|
| The Devil clearly mirrored right before me
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| Eyes, just like my own two, see right through me
|
| A ghastly silence — no life to find
|
| Am I alone here, in my mind?
|
| The foul enigma solved, no logic to be found
|
| A whirling chaos only, whirling and profound |