Yes, we live to die.
And die to live.
It was no surprise when Persephone ate that pomegranate.
She did it. She lived.
Her mother held the innocence of her child, but only to suffer
when she striped it away from her.
Persephone only saw the best for her. She only wanted that
sweet scent of lust
of course, she only found that in hell itself.
She was coated with white and plastered in praise.
Drip, Drip, Drip
In hell, she saw herself and she loved it.