droplets pound the floor, of a dimly lit room, hope decays and withers, with intermittent flickers, hacked up on the tile, stacked up in a pie, hooks line every wall, adorned with human flesh, swaying back and forth, in the stench of rotting death, left alive to bleed, trying to escape only writhing in agony, your most desperate screams, bounce of your tomb of abandoned industry, lambs led to the slaughter, by the shepherds crook, hanging victims scream, in the shroud of throat hooks

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