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poem about lost souls |
Lost No were to go with nothing to gain an unknowing beginning finished with an unknown end. This state of mind is one of the cruelest that god has imposed on his creation a psychological downpour of misery and lust for an unquenchable thirst. The state of mind has no sympathy to those it possesses it cares nothing if it be child or adult man or woman it takes them all. Sinister is the spirit that commands this cloud of dark and dirty melancholy it snickers as another victim succumbs to the virus the epidemic of mental pain and anguish. There is no light at the end of this twisted and tormenting tunnel a labyrinth of lamented wailing a wailing of those who have fallen into the abyss of forgetful and impending doom. Razor sharp roots stick out and greet you as you fall down the tunnel in pitch black agony and despair. This punishment a punishment worse than death almost smiles at you as you get closer to it being pulled in by the terrorizing tentacles of this vile and disgusting creature. Never to know your end not remembering your past this is the state of mind called lost |