I am but a [[sinful]] soul cast down in the depths of hell,
Past my inane lust for blood.
Feasting upon others pity, a parasitic snake whispering nothings into many a ear
Collecting the insults and compliments, only mine to reap.
Casting my anger towards those who deserve it just to wear the skin of humanity.
Making a sinner bleed with my dagger once the night falls in this wretched cell.
Tricking others into coming close, masking my rotten body to devour their time.
As I burn in the rivers I see a Seraph lock the holy light on my charred flesh.
Their slender hands rubbing upon the bubbling skin and the scars.
I watch as the Seraph leans in, the light shone into my clouded eyes.
The Seraph makes my heart greedily pump for more, waiting for its next dose.
The Seraph pulls me out of the molten river, my body stained by rivers of viscera.
I spent the rest of the day with the Seraph, my gnawing hunger satisfied for a little.
The Seraph stays, the light shining the walls of the underdark with beautiful promises of eternity.
An eternity of pleasure and joyous laughter.
I bask in The Seraph’s visage, admiring the li–
Night falls.
I stand, my molten flesh stuck to the rock as it rips free.
My dagger must be fed.
It hungrily yearns for a sacrifice, with the promise of a reprieve.
One it shall deliver.
As I prepare the nightly ritual, I feel a hand grasp the hand holding the unlocked dagger.
Its pale slender frame and ornate craftsmanship beckon to fight the hand.
I struggle against the hands grip, my hunger growing and growling.
In a swift motion I rip free from the hand and open my arm to the steamy air.
My dagger glints in its cage, a black hue engulfing it.
As I become aware I see the hand grasping my wrist.
The Seraph’s beautiful body, now stained by a droplet of demonic blood.
The light promising eternity soiled in the blackened color of sin.
The Seraph doesn’t look at me with scorn.
The Seraph doesn’t look at me with hate.
The Seraph doesn’t look at me with pity.
The Seraph looks at me with acceptance.
The Seraph leaves.
I soberly return to the river.
Night falls.
The Seraph is gone.
Night falls.
I feed the dagger again.
Night falls.
I stare at the walls.
Night falls.
I feed the dagger again.
Night falls.
The black light of the wall stares back.
You wandered the broken planes of sand for a while. The heater shards and now glass stabbing into your foot.
Trickling of blood down into the Earth and blood rushing to your head each racing to get to the destination first.
Swarms of thoughts and emotions flooded your head with vile bile.
And yet you carried on, you walked and walked the endless plane until finally reaching the accursed tower.
The Tower, boundless in its height dwarfing your every dream, your every hope and aspiration, its staggering height representing how lost you felt.
You freed your people but only caused more bloodshed that imprisonment could never hold candle to.
You took a step.
Was it worth it sacrificing thousands of lives and countless families for freedom?
You begin to quicken your pace.
Another voice rang in your head,
Of course it was the right to sacrifice those lifes because they sacrificed those who didn't even get to live true lives.
You begin sprinting, Your breath quickened, drowned out by the heat and haze of the sun.
Even so the seeds of doubt are placed in your mind sprouting confusion in your ideals.
What truly is freedom but a shackle, a chain forcing you to fight when you don't want to forcing you to choose when you don't want to.
Freedom’s a shackle that you were willing to sacrifice everything for, but isn't it just the same as the shackles placed previously?
These people are forced to work for their entire lives and to die working, but what do they do after now that they are free?
Fight in an everlasting war or work until they die to make ends meet?
Isn't that just the same thing but with more semantics?
You took your final step into the tower as your brain wandered.
(text-colour:black)[MTQJGQEJHFZOW
What does eternity do?]