Inside these bleeding caverns
There is warmth.
The pain becomes the only sensation,
Like a thousand knives cutting your skin.
The fire before you beckons,
It promises sweet oblivion.
As you reach your hand into the flames
The pain sears up your arm.
Trembling with pain,
You fall, engulfed.
The pain is everything.
There is no Sorrow.
There is no Joy.
There is no Grief.
There is no Life.
The world goes black.