A Pilgrim’s Cry

Without a desire to inherit evil,
He signed a deal with the devil.
But deep down his appetent heart,

Who can make him holy?
In exchange for his melancholy.
His executable expertise was but an empty ploy.

“Come; come, oh Lord of the enervated.”
“Show me how I can cast my net,
To stop me from being Mr. Daemon’s pet.”

For as it is written,
“I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
From whence cometh my help,

These words of King David in the psalms,
Are like promising balms,
Which are applied from gentle and caring palms,
To the heart of the lonely, and hopeless pilgrim
As he walks on the shores of this insidious spiritual regime.

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