---

The seventh circle speaks to you,

Will you respond to their pleas,

They want you to bow,

Forced to bend the knee,

Keeping you weak,

For their convenient ease,

To earn your own freedom,

Hell would have to freeze.

Mounted upon the mantle,

The pain too much to handle,

Death stains the air,

As they cull the rabble.

Fruitless to resist,

Feel the iron fist,

Treated like a cancer,

A number on a list.

Nothing left,

Soul shattered,

Bruised ego,

Body battered,

Mind broken,

Skull fractured,

Nothing left,

Soul shattered.

'Broken dreams,

Thought I was dead,

It ain't how it seems,

Anxious bout your chances,

To escape my shot,

Don't cross your fingers,

Coz soon you'll feel your brain pop,

It's a head shot,

Meters away, from a fucking Glock.'

Exhume.

BN1.

Your Doom.

Existence gone.