As all your emotions fall to prime-evil suffering,
rhyme is the final release to forever's suffering. The shadows ultimate demise, is a mote of soot within the amber glow of whiskeys final lie. The quaint scent of arterial paint glows umber in feelings of doom. The room grows blacker, colder still as you remember your first innocent kill. Death is to a braven heart as lust is tied to forever, a sin apart. Dementia foretells the final lie, when all that is remember is the glory of a squishing eye.