Steeplechase; Step one
White walls separated by broken, jagged lines
And compared to the red that is inside my head?
and spilled and spattered on every inch of devil-coated space?
for the purpose of sheer demoralization of our minds and bodies
of the demons and the angels and the dark little creatures
There is this sound, a quiet voice, one you can't help but hear
No one know exactly what happened to you after that night
the voice wills back insanity and brings calmness with the smallest of lilts and demonic inflections
It experiments with your helpless mind bringing revolting images of blood and the obliteration of a world
a world that looks so much like your own
it forces the ascension to the edge of your fragile sanity
You don't have an inkling what it desires of you
and you don't want to even try to comprehend what it wants
the undead knowledge no longer snatched from your numb, innocent hand
you know now of every little infraction upon every persons moral beliefs
and you know now that it was all by your hand and your disolutive mind
and you find yourself face-first in the ground
with no choice but to move
you have to move now
you have to move now
and it matters none that you don't know how anymore
or that it hurts
the pain isnt real in any other plane of existence
at least, thats what i have always been told.
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