Do you know how a demon's being made? It's by the torture of thousands of years upon a poor soul in hell!
I will let you know by the words of this poem!
I feel the earth move under my feet,
the sky crashes upon me.
The wind blows hard and
the thunders strike on my knee
The ground cracks and I fall
to a place not far away.
I look at the sky, I see a face
and it looked Grey.
A place where dark souls are put away
they undergo pain they've never felt in anyway.
The scars on my wrist reopen and bleed,
as I recite in front, 'a deadly creed'.
My veins run cold, there's nothing left...
one can only wonder what will happen next.
I close my eyes and drop to the floor,
then demons come and fill my core.
They tear up my soul, they eat my flesh
and
they vomit again when nothing is left
They rebuild my body to start a new pain,
I cry in agony, I've nothing to gain.
They crash my heart, they drink up the juice,
my precious humanity is about to loose.
I look upon a soul, she smells very nice,
by devouring her fear I become the Antichrist
I break to new mutiny
