Amidst the foggy graveyard stones,
a boy walks over buried bones.
He finally stops at a young girl's grave.
He gave her the drugs that she did crave.
His batch is what had stopped her thoughts.
--A noise breaks out where her body rots.
When it sounds, the boy falls,
for he has heard the Siren's calls.
Angelic voices, so sweetly shrill,
pull him over against his will.
Figures appear, grotesque things,
burned skeletons with bony wings.
Its long white finger reaches out,
the boy does not have time to shout.
Instant contact, sends him down.
Swallowed by earth yet he does not drown.
In seconds he has broken through,
to the land where Hell does brew.
The Devil stands before him, but is not fiery red.
A dark-haired figure, sheathed in cloaks, has eyes of blackened lead.
Handsome would have been his face, if not for the evil smile.
He glares down upon his prey, look nothing but hostle.
The boy quivers and sheds open tears,
for the voice of Lucifer appears.
The voice is coming, not from lips, but from the boy's own mind.
It tells him of damnation, the contract that was signed.
He pauses to let it sink in,
as the boy's face shows chagrin.
"Seek out miscarriage mothers, tell them of this deal.
If they happen to sign it, their child I will heal.
A mother will do anything, especially in rage.
They get to keep their child—until he comes of age."
The boy knows why he is here now, on his eighteenth birthday.
He will persuade the mothers, to sell their child like pay.
They'll do it in the spur of the moment, simply on a whim.
Just like his mother did to him.