Demonic Inside

Obscured with my very own insecure personality, over doomed with the sense of my insanity, keep on running back and forth seeking for the truth every human is doomed with their very own personal theology and this is leading to a uncertain hell, the curse is rising demons are overruling the insecure minds of the very creation of the King.
Demanding a secure pass was as there is none, no one seeks the hard path reaching the level of curse where we oath ourselves with a thought as we faith in our suicide.
light was right ahead that deep dark hole was a curse, so many thoughts striking, scratching arms, pulling hairs, tear flowing eyes, and then there is insane obscurity of the demons presence, as the slight hitting call seemed to be delighting and then it turned to be a curse once again held up straight into the devils hands and once again faith in my very suicide began, devil like a whore substance into the aroma of an angel, that smiling lips those tempting eyes, turned the soul to become pervert once again lost host of my senses and ruined the creation of that very imagery.
Not saint not a soul seeker, scene obscene or a mob scene, sex dramatic pain stalker live licker of liquor not a scene for sure a mob scene.
I have seen sensed as the drum beats rolled my eardrums, I could deny the presence of her demon, it over ruled me once again, lost hold as those shouting lips of happiness, cursed me into another phenomenal level that was reaching me to faith in my suicide.
I don’t care if the world is ending today, because I wasn’t invited in the destruction drama, I was a bone of spiced up words, temptation of self-attained looks that will ride you to the dramatics of your so called heaven as it isn’t as it is hell, I am not licking the heart of your very presence as I am demonic the only thing missing is a fantasy and a bitch like you.
What is in it or what is so funny, demon or an angel, because am renamed by your world’s league I am the Lord of the temptations curses, let me delight you with this lust an insecure demon who assures to security of the lusted worlds Crete. It’s like mine funeral, as everyone is attending and making sure I stay dead, I stay dead, will it surely assure your attentions of my dramatic death, make sure I am dead, as am not, Lord of the demanded never dies as the curse will then turn into an insane aids.
Like the crowd with a walking behind shadow, shall my demons watch over you, shall follow until they reach the grave where they will rest beside you, I assure the reoccurrence of the moments again, they will rule and they will overtake the demons of my insane personality.
Faith in my suicide.

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