Nov 2013
I heard you tossed sinners to the flame.
I was in disbelief until I smelled my soul roasting on a spit.
I know that purgatory doesn't exist.
Hell far worse than nothingness.
I know that all torture is godless,
Not all pain meant to temper.
As I screamed, you told me to
Look up.
I was in disbelief until I smelled my soul roasting on a spit.
I know that purgatory doesn't exist.
Hell far worse than nothingness.
I know that all torture is godless,
Not all pain meant to temper.
As I screamed, you told me to
Look up.
Existential crisis again because Czeslaw Milosz just convinced me I'm a horrible person. I'm assuming this is how the value of grace is measured.
