The silver tongued demon sings a siren song.
A sickly sweet thing of beauty and death.
Exquisite pain joins unbearable sadness,
as men are lured to her island of despair,
and a beautiful serene terror overtakes them.
This place is not heaven, nor is it hell.
It is emotion, made manifest.
It is pleasure inside of pain.
But it is also pain inside of pleasure.
A distilled and beautiful imperfection.
The rocks are covered in blood and bones.
All of those who came before.
All of those lured by the song.
They did not turn back when they should have.
They stayed, entranced by the beauty.
It led them to their doom.
And now I stand before the very same island.
Listening, for what seems like eternity.
I am bound to this place.
It is bound to me.
Forever I am a prisoner.
Captive to the siren song.