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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