Russian Roulette is all she knows.
Counting to six is her belief.
The soundly hollows of death is her faith.
She takes great dealings below her waist,
Filled with red, black, and white stripes.
Hope continues to play games with her cynical life:
Pull the trigger,
Open the vein.
No bullet to fill her gun,
No blade to open her wrist.
She is left only to taste the bitter-sweet sight of survival.
She seeks darkness that will inhale her in.
Yet the grace of God chokes the Sadist into exhale.
Raspy voices lying within her murmur:
Kill the QUEEN. Kill the QUEEN.
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