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Beelzebub's Shrine

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I enter, engulfed in darkness
Attempting to leave my insecurities at the door
Trying to forget how easily our porcelain exteriors shatter
And how the confidence we once held is now lost
I grasp for the knob
Demanding movement until the soul has nothing left
The steady stream begins
Into the torrent of a blazing reality
Ripping, tearing, engulfing my flesh in flames
I pray the water will burn off the exterior
Praying that somehow I can rectify my impurities
That the burning will cleanse me
That I could cease to be what I had come to hate
The sting begins to wane
The pain disappears
The incessant pounding becomes bearable
Comprehension
I could get used to burning



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