There It Sits, Still, Waiting For Souls To Command And Lead Down To Hell Where Antics Travel Freely,

There it sits, still, waiting for souls to command and lead down to hell where antics travel freely, screaming reigns and blood fills the stomach as if it were human food. You start to hear things when you're in a place that kills to be alive. The more of you it finds, the higher the flames fly. It has the appearance of an old man today, shivering and wilting beneath some wily tree, whose branches seem more twisted than others. He'll be laying there, maybe singing or resting his head on his hands... In this one, the hero doesn't win... This creature is known as the door of all sin to humanity, the feeder of flame to the pits. Do you ever look up at the sky and imagine an angel streaking across it, maybe you think it's singing and crying tears of gold in honor of the sun? No, you don't. You imagine an angel, crying tears of gold but screeching and flying across the tops of clouds, trying without luck to flee it. That lady beside you... Her head kind of hurts, and you may not see it but its there, piercing her veins and holding her wrists against her, the angel inside strangled and tangled into its self awareness and that, my friend, is how society came to thrive upon the weakness of the outer shell. Humans, portrayed as the strong-willed planet earth wielders, can't help but become corrupted by it, and their angels sit inside, bleeding and crying, their eyes soaked in loathe. You'll know the feeling of silenced laughter or having an angel inside you shrivel up and die, wondering why you became so corruptible. The pain could be as soft flowing as water down the fleshy throat, muscles tightening as the liquid trickles.