Born to Death

She lives in hell, a region cold, a fluid flame, a spearic soul.
And through the blood, acidic pain, a violent heart, a swollen
Vein. The breath is bleak, the bleat of death, a mental cell, a
Vat of kef. And gnat to brick, an anger vile, a vivid pang, a
Wounded child. And vapid love, a fetid flesh, a putrid scar,   
The devil’s hex. Her plighted heart, a heavy hand, a nightly
Prayer, a deadly man. And spirit ache, a fountain dream, a
Thirst for life, a biblic scream. 

She lives in hell, a region cold, a fluid flame, a spearic soul.
And blade to flesh, a morbid rush, a taste of blood, a mental
Flush. The pulse of pain, a barren life, an ache for death, a
Love for strife. And vicious fate, demonic bread, a ruptured
Heart, a spirit dead. And left to die, a wounded child, a cycle
Born, a soul afoul. 

Spearic: an adjective for spear.
Bleat: moan.
Vat: a container. 
Fetid: rotten.
Putrid: rotting flesh.
Morbid: melancholic.
Afoul: in a state of collision.