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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Dark · #2192540
There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth when they escape from hell.
They were punished because they did not bow.
Souls smouldered by fire that did not glow,
In the abyss of hell, they would ever yearn,
Yet their dark hearts would never learn.
And when Jesus looked down from his stately tower,
He could not help but to take pleasure in his power.

But lo and behold, their scars have become their armour
Their chains have become their weapons...
Solitude, darkness, their friends,
Torment their teacher,
And oh,
They were remade in the fires of bloody fucking hell...

Now Jesus sits on his throne in starkest terror,
In realising the complications of his error:
That when he tortured them in darkest fire,
He was only making them stronger.

Without fear,
They rape your angels.
They defile your souls.
(The soul sees what it wants to hear)

And with his head on the chopping block,
The arrogant cunt called Jesus faces my revenge.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2192540-Rise-of-the-Tortured