Poem by Marc Aupiais in his saint name Philomena
Thought the devil, their lover- offers the world for countless souls!
Though nothing stops them in their sins,
And the world talks of them,
Adds to them!
And the "good" admire the parts not so blasphemous!
As though the world at large,
Talent starved!
But Papa, he says we should not to them,
Or to power aspire!
Though the Devil offers
them the world, a risk,
Its not just their soul,
They obliterate!
And only for a moment,
Do they rise,
Like the flowers,
Dead by winter!
Though the world loves them,
Breathe no more,
Though the devil offers you the world,
Your soul- it is why I love you-
Nothing else but it would ever!
Make me care my dear!
There be monsters,
And they can't predict past death,
But I can-
To hell itself they've wed,
And in hell lies their torture,
Eternal, living, suffering death,
We all live forever,
They await their death,
That they bet,
6 bullets in Russian Roulette!
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