An Empty HellA Poem by Salem FitzgeraldOver 100 years ago, Mark Twain asked, “Who prays for Satan?” And I wonder if in some hidden realm, Mark watched me during last summer’s downpour, sacrificing my voice and lungs, begging for a different outcome, or a release from my soul contract. I think he would’ve found his answer. Me. I’ve prayed for Satan, in one way or another, for 1,373 days. While others abandoned and condemned, I prayed. I hoped for him, cried for him, and if I wasn’t already gone, I would’ve die for him. My hands weren’t pressed together and I was miles from a church pew, But I prayed. In screams at the sky and on crystals and candles, I sent wishes in tree roots and marked sigils on my own delicate skin And I prayed for the same cards in every reading"the devil and death. Me and you. Satan lives in death’s warm home and welcoming embrace What is the afterlife without it’s king? But I feel it now. As he moves through the living world, I’m missing a part of me. Only the devil could cheat death. We’ve embodied this darkness together for so long, But I know what he feeds on, what fuels him, what fills the void where his soul should be. It’s the one thing death could never offer him. Life. © 2023 Salem FitzgeraldReviews
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StatsAuthorSalem FitzgeraldSmall Town, WIAboutI walk through life imagining events that have yet to happen. I yearn for adventure and passion. I'm let down so often by everyone I meet so I spend a lot of time alone. I'm a writer, a philosopher, a.. more..Writing
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