Throbbing, oozing agony;
A need for will and power;
A sense of intense control.
At its finest, insanity
Arises a prominent tower;
A deep cleansing of the soul.
Up and down, thy rhythm grows.
Shocks sent up your spine;
A careful cardio of the heart.
Time begins to slow;
A sloping decrease brings a dying vine
The start of love's departure.
Restless lay you heathens,
Whom in moving to your native dance
Found peace after rituals complete.
On your ribs lyes your scarlet secretions,
A signal of the bygone trance.
The hearts gently retreat;
Their offbeat pounce and beat
Justifiably indiscreet.
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Feel free to add whatever you like! I like to think of language as a form of poetry, expressing the right to free speech and embracing individuality. However, please do not be disrespectful.