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Her eyes are dying embers... Her skin's cracked porcelain... Her soul's a spring; she's coiled tight... Oh! Where do I begin? She's dying from the surface-in, But there's a danger lurking there-- Betwixt the hunks of rotting meat; Beneath the mounds of matted hair. Her hands are crooked razors... Her ******* are melted wax... Her womb will bear only darkness now... But her heart holds out for more attacks. Her spine's a fuse in dynamite... Her bones are all but dust... But there's still malice in her mind; A mind that's caked in rust... She's decaying from the outside-in, But there's a monster 'neath the husk. A being built of horrid things; Of claw and hoof and tusk. Her voice is winter windstorms... She draws in her toxic breath... Her muscles crack like autumn leaves... She is a sight of withered death. She'll score your flesh with talons... She'll strip you of your flesh... She'll bottle up your insides, In an attempt to keep them fresh. She's a curse that comes from inside-out, A plague that yearns to maim. A rage that yields to only one, But no one knows their name...
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
She's Coming...
Her eyes are dying embers... Her skin's cracked porcelain... Her soul's a spring; she's coiled tight... Oh! Where do I begin? She's dying from the surface-in, But there's a danger lurking there-- Betwixt the hunks of rotting meat; Beneath the mounds of matted hair. Her hands are crooked razors... Her ******* are melted wax... Her womb will bear only darkness now... But her heart holds out for more attacks. Her spine's a fuse in dynamite... Her bones are all but dust... But there's still malice in her mind; A mind that's caked in rust... She's decaying from the outside-in, But there's a monster 'neath the husk. A being built of horrid things; Of claw and hoof and tusk. Her voice is winter windstorms... She draws in her toxic breath... Her muscles crack like autumn leaves... She is a sight of withered death. She'll score your flesh with talons... She'll strip you of your flesh... She'll bottle up your insides, In an attempt to keep them fresh. She's a curse that comes from inside-out, A plague that yearns to maim. A rage that yields to only one, But no one knows their name...
nathan-squiers
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Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
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