Yes, we live to die. 

And die to live. 

It was no surprise when Persephone ate that pomegranate. 

She did it. She lived. 

Her mother held the innocence of her child, but only to suffer

when she striped it away from her. 

Persephone only saw the best for her. She only wanted that 

sweet scent of lust 

of course, she only found that in hell itself. 

She was coated with white and plastered in praise. 

Drip, Drip, Drip

In hell, she saw herself and she loved it.