I've walked the roads of hell, often looking back,
never doth thine own feet did tarry, even for rest when weary.
Walking circles round at crossroads bound, until a choice had been found.
A sea of evil, and ocean of living corpse all around.
I walked on and on, once or twice, I paid a price,
pain cut deeper than any vice.
To pick a kindly soul from the ground, to not let a kindness extinguish,
I know twas mistake as only more suffrage did I make.
I walk alone, this ending road, where one day I shall bleed,
from this be freed, hell hath served its purpose,
it broke the kindly surface and left naught but coldly carcass.
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