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Random Goth poetry generator

Her Knife

Someone's quite fearful truth shall never forget Satan's sky
Still miserably they immortalise God's graveyard — it is painless
Because they smash his shadow — you are too withered
Without pity I comprehend my mind; I am healing
God's phobia...

Sorrowfully I accept Satan's pride: you are slightly withered
That soul shall never break God's mindset
This creature shall never turn against Satan's mindset
While without mercy I torment someone else's ignorance: I am oh so red

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