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Bloody Sacrafice
Flames of orange and red,

Ash upon the ground,

Smoke in the air,

Rain pouring down heavy,

Many animals are bled,

In a cave as dark as a starless night.The smell of blood is thick all around,

And the ground is wet,

With rain and blood.

Devious plans are set,

With evil minds.

Torture of all kinds,

Screams filling the air,

Death given without a care,

But stuck with no light.

An aura like hell,

A toll of a bell,

Because death is near.

Cut after cut,

Drops of blood,

Into fountains and pools.

Nothing but anger and fear.

The enterance shut,

But a red flood,

Is surrounding the cave.

Nothing to save,

But the tools.

Tools of sacrafice and death are the only things shown.

Deaths are unknown.

Flames upon a pile,

That is hard to tell what the pile is,

Until you are close enough to smell rotting flesh.

Death is a sharp knife never able to file.

Hearts pounding loudly,

Eyes widened,

And tears falling.

Death is calling,

Life is near an end.

Bloody tools of hate,

There is only one fate.

Given this warning,

With screams of mourning.





 
 
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