In the eternal silence, my soul crawls between nameless graves, clinging to solitude as if it were an old friend. The black candle flickers on a cracked altar, dancing to the rhythm of demons disguised as thoughts. I no longer adore life—I study death, revere it, obsess over its quiet promise. Flesh is a prison; only the void is eternal. In every scar, I find purpose. In every dried bloodstain, I read a prayer. And in my final shadow, I hope Satan looks back—not with wrath, but with understanding.
hello prayer may your god protect you
