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Jan 2014
Smoke dances from my lips
Out here were there is no laws, no rules
As I sit on the rough concrete steps with the moths and the ash
as my solemn companions
The street lights stare as the heat settles close,
sweat rolling heavily off my brow
The embers speak of the god I no longer care for
in pure words so ancient only the old oaks know them
Devils wretch themselves from the smoke and dance around me
Satan himself sits beside me, kissing my lips, sweet like sin
He sits silently with me
Golden eyes like slits
I bring the **** of my cigarette to my sullen lips
and take a sugar coated drag
My lungs brimming with peace
God turns his thorny head
With a wave of his pure almighty hand
A wicked grin spreads out on the fluid curve of
my lips
I am condemned
Quinn
Written by
Quinn  22/F/Purgatory
(22/F/Purgatory)   
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