It’s such a horrible loyalty that she has to her vice. Such lovely destructionshe carves through the skin. It’s in her nature now, she doesn’t even think twice. Her or it? The question lingers. It… always wins.
She no longer feels its calming sting. There’s no longer that pleasingpain. She hears the angels as they sing. Little rivers flow into her hands. It has captured her, hollow shells remain.
It’s disgustinglybeautiful you see, no one sees the new prints ofemotion. She’s becomeaddicted and would hate being freed. Such a shame to watch her waste. It’s just her deadly devotion.