A dark soul walked through the light, not knowing whether to
flee or fight.
Already injured from the thousands of stares, wanting to be
home; not there.
As the fire from hell breaks loose its done. Everyone will die
and we won’t spare anyone.
July 18th we will rise and kill. And
remember the day hell spilled.
Through the valley’s whispers to trees, we cut
off the heads of the menacing thieves.
That's the picture thats under the writing in my journal
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