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THE DEVILS TRILL

By Samantha X



For too long—I have been a ghost.

Singing sorrow in the graveyard

where I grew up.

 

Drinking the blood

from the Philosophers cup.

Trying to fill my cold heart up.

Trying to repair the Devils violin

so I can sing the Sirens song again.

 

Who will I be when I grow up?

You can call me Culture.

 

It was I who inspired Da Vinci—

You can call me high class renaissance.

I whispered secrets

in sane artistic visions.

 

With my death bury me in Pandora’s chest,

that’s where I belong.

Don’t save my grace.

No cross.

No rock.

I want nothing to mark my spot.

In the Graveyard of Eden

is where I stay lost.


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