A nausea feint
Turns his stomach
It lowers in soft incline
Towards the darkness
Disciples of denial
Remember terrified
Their forced privacy
Dead souls whose wrapping
Is entrusted to the bedlam
Blood trails
Flow from their wrists and ankles
Fire, blood and death
Eternal damnation's symbols
Life fades
As mist under the sun
Four ghosts
Blunt and crippled corpses
Blood trails
Flow from their wrists and ankles
He returns, always returns
We think he died but comes back
After him, death and grief's signs
Thirteen elderly women murdered, crucified
Pages full of bloody drawings
Blood trails
Flow from their wrists and ankles
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