African shrine

Looks so good but interior its rotten, holds loads of promises that were forgotten, smells so soul lifting and destroys ones lungs, takes away ones taboos,burdens and bags, replaces with dust of pains and its rags. as thoughtless as it is, a touche-th and it departs thy three from one-a split, its like a paradise of torture,poison covered with sweet, warm welcome by a beast, a bit of blood, a piece of meat. your heart is missing its the same flesh you feast.