Ugly scars of the forbidden past,
Lingers on the verge of sanity,
It rises from the midst of filth and dust,
Obscured from the light of clarity.
Thorns of roses crowns her head,
A Venetian mask in her hand,
Droplets of blood so bright and red,
Drips from her spiky band.
From the burning depths of her bloody eyes,
Holds secrets of her murky past,
An ocean of blood would not suffice,
To end her malevolence so deep and vast.
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