a very dark tale

 
a gothic cure to your bloodless curse
to curdle your pain a dash of disdain
a ghoulish victory should send you spinning
for you varied vices possibly a brunette  
and unseemly flesh in torrid fetishes
uncomely and the hour late
the ferryman won't deliver your watery victim
 
infernal hatred becomes your soul
internalizing each slight coming from the shadows
a replay, you can't silence the screaming
in horror's grip you're sure everyone can hear her
 
sewing the seeds you're close to telling on yourself
in darkness blackout you sleep poorly as your soul withers
a paltry look with pale flesh hanging from your frame
a demoness seeks you out among your hiding places
 
there's a debt to be paid for hunting the devil's own
sinister stirring in your belly and it begins
you spill your secrets next because you know it's a mortal sin
 
enters the macabre specters don't let them bother you
they are here solely to watch you get tortured
speculating where to begin
a clever wraith says remove his smile
after their alteration, a gash is all that is left
 
still, you will spill
lying to us will get you nowhere  
and death isn't a ticket out
 
it is straight to level twelve
it is a bizarre place hell
they will find out what you are made of
in the grip of a Cenobite leader
 
finally, they will crack your skull open
and see what went wrong with you