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The pain is so beautiful.

Darkness, sinks the graves.

Casting thrones, in prayer of night.

Weak, vulnerable, no haven;

Only prayers in decay.

Rituals wander; entrails lay in the snow.

Blood in the hands, blood in the sin.

Her thrones haunted, no darkness alive.

Her stomach shown – an altar dying within.

She's so lovely; becoming, burning her lust.

Where I suffer, where I suffer, where I suffer.

Wings shroud summoned churches delineated.

The waters beneath reflect clouds in winters doom.