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Night Ritual

Around, all around, the dark memories gather.

My dread grows as the dagger of your words falls against my

naked soul.

It wounds me, and darkly my

essence drips

to the wicked earth that is my prison.

In a strange and terrible glee I beg forgiveness

while nothingness surrounds me.

Now alone, my soul falls upon uncaring eyes.

This is my salvation

Go to deadlounge and make your own gothic poem.