Oh, to be free of the crimson stains smeared upon me!
The Devil's work has been done, and I've naught to show for my labors, save the weight of my egregious sins.
I cannot lift this burden from my oppressed frame without expiation, whose relief cannot be granted without remorse for those actions which levied it.
Remorse! If only I could enter through the glorious gate you protect.
Alas, I am not like others; reveling in my deeds while knowing my spirit rots within.
Woe to those who cross the path traversed by this withered, damned creature that I am.