The land of the dead

This borrowed destruction of both soul and spirit
Where both soul and spirit are corrupted
Making the two loathe the environment
For this prostitute always manifest itself

This circle of sorrow came crying
Also going back with bowl of salty waters
Battling with circle of sorrow all through
But its hard to face the end of the circle

This story of master bloody plot
Organisation mixed with bitter sweet quality
Set in heaven hell kingdom
Where the author vomit the saint
And also the demon

Where Eve nor the serpent exist
Where stumbling blocks born giants
Where mansions born saints
Where stinking gutters produces Angles
Where beautiful waters produces demons

Where smiles is to penetrate between the legs
For that is the destination of their sweet words
Changing shapes everyday but claiming genuine affection
Their eyes are blind to the hell they see
Ears are deaf to the words they hear

Where arms and legs of saints are crippled
Claiming cleanliness and having eyes to the unseen
but they run away from snails
A disgrace to the saints

Where merchants of the earth are kings
Over their product which they exchange
With their product who consumes
Selling soul destructors
Buying soul satisfies
Oh my eyes and mouth cries

Where lives are freezers to Eskimos
Where dragons sits on higher thrones
Where being light is hell
Where virtues are sold and bought
Behold! The land of the dead.

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This Poems Story

This is the deep and dark secret of life.