Who would have thought that hell could be beautiful?
Screams of the fellow ****** bleed into the devilish hymns of the choir,
creating an eerily evocative polyphony
from the lips of those who strip the flesh from our backs and revel in our misery.
The angels of hell smile,
with all the splendor of their former positions and more;
For they are more than angel.
They are imperfect,
and yet so hideously perfect that the mind splinters into shards of stained glass that fall from the cathedral into the pits of hell.
They are Hatred.
They are Anguish.
They are Lust.
They are Greed.
They are Lies.
They are the purest form of every wicked misfortune known to mankind.

They are ethereal; They are macabre;

They are fallen.