1. Incinerate

Burning, scorching, blistering, these absolute feelings utterly crushing and coursing through my pumping veins, oh how my skin turns a bitter crisp as I lay in this hell bound world. 

I chip easy, crunching under the slightest pressure, overcooked, and bland to an uncertain degree. How I feel mistreated by the flames of Satan's miserable desperate hands, and he holds all of my sufferings in his stained palms of despair.

These flames dominate my interior, rocking my exterior, I am not in control, sin fuels the flame of injustice among my dying soul.

Protect my rights, protect fairness, protect the weak, and make a new. I am flaring, I am strong in weakness, easily stampeded, and mostly armed against.

They take up arms against my cracking soul, destroying my hope, my faith, tugging me in with their rope behind their ragged bandwagon of sin and strife. 

I cannot be held, I am a monster, a monster against sin, against evil and mischief.
Satan's rope is withering, destitute, and repetitive.

"I win, I win, I win, Satan! You are dead!" 

The demon blasts his magma in every direction, displaying his fury in every steamy breath. 

The rope has broken, and so has Satan. My hands begin to lose their crispy structure, the fire emaciating from Satan's withering form blasts me back into a solid rock wall.

My back is eternally destroyed, my body crumbles, and falls apart to tiny bits and pieces the more I slide down from my elevation in the collapsed wall.

Satan begins to take form into the lava, completely disintegrating.

My body was done for, my soul was stronger than ever, a brick wall it was.

I had slain Satan, what a feat!

My soul was now complete, God had led me to victory once again.

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