Hellbent

people dont always reveal exposing their curled horns sharpened towards the sky elaborately torn or newly shown wings gigantic over towering guiding their soul who says there are angels when to be told were all sinners was there a time when we were saints you cant those twisted thoughts engraved into the stems of our brains scorned into our flesh the stench too strong to deny burdening makes it harder especially if there is shame for those scars living yes but at least you are breathing somethings cant lurk in the void forever boredom eventually becomes you reach into the abyss feeling and hearing those whispers those my love are your demons wanting to play