Oh, how sweet it would be
When Lucifer beholds thee
His string of words, ablazing a fire.
To read it with passion is what I desire.
Oh, how sweet it would be
When the reaper comes upon me.
When his words ring in me,
They strike fear, greed, and joy.
Oh, how savory it would be
When Lucifer and the Reaper
Were to sing a melody of their own.
Anger, sorrow, disappointment, and pride.
My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I wish to hear the poems of
The crooked, of the scarred, and ******
My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am,
For I would tear off
The wings of an angel to hear
A wonderful song of sorrow.
My, oh, my..
What I sinner I am
For I would **** a child
To have coffee with the darkness.
Father, oh, Father..
Forgive me for my sins,
But I don't think I'm welcome here.
~ M.M
Angels do not weep, nor do they scream for they are loved. They know not of pain.
But Lucifer and The Reaper, oh the bunch, they are wonderfully broken.
P.S This is all imagination, as far as I know, I wouldn't **** a child to make a poem out of it.