Oh what a corroding flavor this is.
A concoction of disregard and lethal words.
The wake of such leaves the mind baron.
The seeds have been sewn.
And with the coming harvest does each pew wreak destruction.
One of many in fact.
Sprouting new yet familiar cringes.
The root is that of hell fire.
And the forge is aflame once more.
A conundrum of gleeful dissonance.
The sear is almost as unbearable as the creation of its last creature.
The howls echo throughout the night.
Branding malicious means deep within the void it had become.
The scent of blood is in the air.
As the lust grows
So does its wretched grin.