Addiction and rape hold upon the pillars of your soul.
Shattered fragments of self reveal the weakling that holds the blade (the mirror),
and the blade holds the weakling.
Slit your wrists with the broken mirror shards of hate and rape that brought you into this world.
Darkness hides under coward welfare payments and squalid religion, and darkness travels fast.
Another black orgasm, another victory for despair.
Covered your own semen (and blood), your addiction to rape yourself was never the way.
The ruins of your dreams reach like dire fingers to the shattered skies and the leprosy sun turns its face.
Eyes traumatised by following good byes, the slave-mind (pulled by the blade) embraces its last days.
You were alone before you even began, and your idiot God did not listen.
Be true to the suicide within you, give into the urge to fall into the circle of rape.
I will be there to pick you up and cut your throat.
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