Blood and Wine

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His heart pumps with a vengeful fire,

of those he consumed with a passion to climb even higher.

Blood and wine twist in his chalice,

the blood of the fallen flows through his veins.

A glass churning with spiraling malice,

immortality has become his game.

The dead live on in his thorn-coiled heart,

far from mortals, his soul will depart.

Haunted by the loss of humanity,

dreaming of becoming something more.

Reveling in the chaos of despicable vanity,

robed in human skin, searching for something forlorn.

Despicable urges flowing out of control,

fueling a hatred that burns like smouldering coal.

He must find a vessel to vent his insurmountable rage,

in a pool of vile thirst his spirit becomes a slave.

A nameless monster locked in mortality's cage,

a banquet of beasts for his psychosis to crave.

His inner demon is taking shape,

foreboding the day it makes its escape.

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