Madness it my perceived reality or yours?
Can you see through my eyes, the torrid life of a forgotten whore?

The jagged pieces that are left of me,
Floating in a tumulus sea.

The thousand tears that I have shed,
The vile blood that still runs red.

The "who" you see is not who I am,
Too tired, too old to have faith again.

Pondering this thing called life,
Once was Satans wife.

Exquisite torture, no physical pain,
A broken soul, never whole again.

Little insights I give to you,
Never false, never true.

Interpretation is up to you.

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