A Plague on WordsA Poem by Succubi
Promises are kept with gold
Close to the heart…but nearer To the hands that feed… The stygian creeds’ potent Wind ever higher Like smoke crawling From the crematoria’s ceiling Darkness crawls to its peak… “In the name of God, they are weak” But the power to overcome such lies Is stronger than any claim The fumes boil and roll © 2009 SuccubiReviews
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7 Reviews Added on June 25, 2009 AuthorSuccubiPortlandAboutMy name is Jennifer. I am fifteen years old and I am inspired to be a poet, novelist, songwriter. I play the electric guitar and hope to start a band one day with my music and lyrics. more..Writing
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