Burn It All

Burn it all.


It’s always the plan as the fire licks the photograph, as the ink becomes part of the ashes


above the symbolic grave covered in the wine dedicated to the Goddess of death upon this day that is


dark as night, as the sun sets so does the flames into a puddle of smudged black soot drowned in the


red liquid that signifies the end of life and the cutting of ties, unbound are the bonds that tied so tight,


unbound are the lines of love and lust and lies, unbound is all that was held dear until a rotting corpse of


life drowned in the sewers of reality, free runs the child across the skies of dreams, free runs the mother


of life, free runs the hearts of those whom have suffered upon a sinking hell of never ending nightmare,


the end of days and end of things unproductive, come the end of rotten times and abuse and sorrow,


come the end of all that was begun upon the devils dozen, come now see the sun set behind the


darkness that hides it rays as the wine sinks into the clay and soaks the replica that rots upon the earth


that worms avoid, come now we must end this festering sore upon thiy face, as the little flame raises in


the wind the darkness moves within and the power of the fire is brought undone and all that once was


before has now been forgotten as the light fades.



Burn it all.



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