Atruistic

The beautiful people never lie.
Yet they are the first to die.
Down to the abyss they fall.
Their pain makes evil enthrall.
Ha, I may have died a painful death.
Ha, evil is the only one left.
Walk and wallwo in your misery.
Me murdering you is a perfect symphony.
Down to hell you should scream.
A melancoly note so sirene.
I love the voice of death.
Peace, as I die, the beautiful people are left.

Nothingness, no emotions they do not care.
Burning, licking flames they go higher.
Breathless; hard to breath the air.
Sickened by you, liar.