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You have a mother;
She doesn’t know
That I’ve given you a paper
That you have yet to throw.
In other words,
Your mom’s a ***.
Ahahah this vine is stuck in my head.
Black; a shade, a void, a sin, a mirror to the spirit?
The bottomless pit in the distressed mind.
Ancient past that’s left behind?
No light to warn if strangers wander in—
And if they’ve come to rule, to take, or win?
An image too grim for the fine eye to see?
Drowning calmly in the deep Black Sea?
Thorny knifings in a back?
When the price shows plus the tax?
What is this black?
What is this black?
A shade, a void, a sin, a mirror to the spirit?
The bottomless pit of questions, comparisons, lists,
Spiralling downwards,
Getting darker as smoothly as the falling.
Black; infinite shades of black.
Here, there is no smiling back.
An ignited money stack?
A sadist,
The maddest,
The brightest;
The smartest
Equals the scariest?
A murdering plague,
With a description so vague
That again there is no warning
For the hurting and the mourning
About to go on.
My attempt at a colour poem... ahaha...

Haven’t written something like this in a while.
Who lives in this kingdom on the cloud?
Come down; come here; show your form!
If you're all that mighty-proud...

Why whisper when you say that you are loud?
You claim, "If tempted, I'll bring down a storm."
Who lives in this kingdom on the cloud?

Are you alone, or centred by a crowd?
Do your trick; go awe me and perform!
If you're all that mighty-proud...

In your kingdom, is thought allowed,
Or will your voodoo help the world transform?
Who lives in this kingdom on the cloud?

You are proving that you have not wowed;
Your heart is weak and isn't warm.
Who lives on this kingdom on the cloud––
If you're all that "mighty-proud"?
Hehehe, just a villanelle from when I was bored in biology.
If there is purpose to life
Then it is death,
As all men die,
And some men mourn.
My “philosophy”...
Though, to me, there is no set purpose to life.
I was the female
Whose eyes and soul
Were like a mystery
Wrapped inside a fairytale.
Devil and evil are not one.
(“Hello, Lucifer...
The fun has just begun.”)
From evil one is to hide and run.
A good conscience says, “Put down the gun.”

The devil does not cause death;
Every choice has an effect.
Don’t blame the bad on Luci;
Have some respect.
Another soul is not responsible for how one will act.

The devil punishes for bad deeds.
Mr. Morningstar makes deals to help succeed.
So if one asks him for some weeds,
He will give one what he needs:
A garden, a shovel, and three seeds.
But he will call, and ask, and plead
For a favour back for the deal to come complete.
And one shall help to spare ingestion by hell’s heat.

Evil is purely man caused;
Lucifer watches man’s suffering in exhaust.
And hell’s pain happens over, and over
Till one feels nailed to the cross;
Till one is weak, and one is lost.
I was bored... kind of inspired by the show Lucifer, and Tom Ellis’ attractive face lmaoooo.

I’m sorry for the nonsense poem :)
Also, I’m not religious, and this poem has nothing to do with religion.
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