Walls smeared with red
The rotten smell of a cadaver
He won’t be the last one here
There are flies on the window
A liquid pools around her
Looks of wine but reeks of death
She won’t be the last one here
There are maggots on the walls
He follows the flies
He knows they’re full of lies
It’s a question of trust
But in a state of panic, trust is all he has
She weeps as she slips
But this final stretch can’t be her last
It’s a question of trust
She trusts fate to save her past
He thinks he is getting close
She knows she is going nowhere
He thinks it’s a question of time
She knows the maggots draw closer
He can see the flies growing in numbers
She can feel the maggots crawling on her skin
He is stripped of his sight
The flies love the smell of the guilt on his face
He screams
She cannot hear him
He fights the demons that feast on him
He rips off his skin to free himself from the guilt
But that only attracts even more demons
She is stripped down to the bone
The maggots have found their home
She screams
He cannot hear her
She realises that fate betrayed her trust
He realises that the flies betrayed his trust
Their trust only drew them closer to their demise