Incomplete Myth of a Goddess that Does Not Exist.

Shapska, a name bruited in the dark corners
of forgotten realms where murk
cotillion with the remnants of lost souls.
In the heart of this desolate place Shapska reigns,
a deity of crooked love and morbid allure.
Her touch, both a blessing and a curse,
weaves through the fabric of actuality,
binding the living and the dead in an eternal grasp.

In the silence of the night,
Shapska's presence is felt,
a cold surge stroke that sends
jitters down the spine.
Her eyes, like double voids,
pierce through the mask of reality,
seeing into the deepest recesses of the heart.

She's the keeper of secrets,
the guardian of interdicted conjurations
and the minstrel of those who dare
to supplicate beyond the mortal coil.
Shapska's realm is a maze of crooked
paths and darkened corridors,
where the air is thick with the scent
of decay and the whispers of the damned.

Love and death intertwine, their dance a lurid ballet
that defies the boundaries of life.
In this place, Shapska's touch is both a comfort and a torment,
a keepsake of the fragility of actuality
and the power of the unknown.
 
Her followers, drawn to her by the pledge of eternal love,
wander the maze in quest of her grasp.
They are the lost and the broken,
the bones who have tasted the bitterness of life and worry
for the sweet release of death.
In Shapska's arms, they find solace, their souls taken
with hers in a dance that transcends time and space.

Shapska's love is a contradiction,
a force that both heals and destroys.
It's a fire that burns with an intensity that consumes
all in its path, leaving only ashes and remembrances in its wake.
Yet, in the midst of this destruction, there is beauty,
a godly love that defies the darkness and brings light to the murk.

In the heart of Shapska's realm, there is a theater,
a place of crooked beauty
where flowers bloom in tones of black and sanguine.
Also, the air is filled with the scent of blood
and the whispers of the dead, a symphony of anguish
and pining that echoes through the night.
It's in this theater that Shapska's true nature is revealed,
a goddess of love and death,
whose touch is both a blessing and a curse.

Shapska's story is one of eternal love and everlasting anguish,
a tale that transcends the boundaries of life and death.
It's a story of a goddess who walks the line
between light and darkness, her heart torn between
the desire to heal and the need to destroy.

In her grasp, there is both pain and pleasure,
a keepsake of the fragile beauty of actuality
and the power of the unknown. In the end,
Shapska's love is a force that ca n't be denied,
a godly love that defies the darkness and brings light to the murk.
It's a love that transcends time and space,
binding the living and the dead in an eternal dance
that echoes through the ages.
And in this dance, there is beauty, a crooked
and morbid beauty that speaks to the heart and soul
of all who dare to impplicate beyond the mortal coil.