Bittersweet upon my tongue
As jagged as a sword, he slits my existence
Blasphemy unto my ears, "Shame on you!" He utters
Watch his jet-black cloak surround my heart
How cunning is he, inside the majestic holes in which his eyes reside
To lead you into the darkest depth of your soul
His voice, thunderous, shrieking in my heart of vile things insisted
His thick fingers grasp my shameful body and mind
Pleasure is his-burning my soul, as ashes unfurl beneath my skin
Disgusting scent of mead and sorrow drip from his lips
To my demise, I reach out for him
I can feel his pain and lick the salt from his wounds
Taking in every emotion, to be baffled by the pain
I have ingested from the emotion that resents me
Shame is his name, he has plenty of game, plenty fame
He is able to turn me into his shameful bride

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