One garden
with two serpent who reigns, who to serve? the devil or the monster, damn its destruction at the garden of Eden, and Eden never stood a chance.
like a mere mortal body, with two voices in the head, one just telling the truth, one bad just lying with its sweet siren voice, who to trust,the good quiet truth voice? or the bad sweet singing siren voice, which is enchanting, doom and destruction at the end.
Damn im just a mere mortal, and should be excused for my sin, for i never stood a chance against sin, for sin is just a sweet elixir, no wonder holy water is needed to burn away this sins.
Damn it must be this voices in the head, for im an addict and poetry its my fix, so its either I write Or else I die. *
Damn the sad story of a bipolar writer, who fell of the wagon cause poetry was not there, no wonder this opium and daggers under my bed, im fighting this day-mares, and chasing demons in this dreams, the sad life of a possessed suicidal poet.
I swear Poets are not normal, they are Kings and Queens in a rainy day, addicts on a sunny day, no wonder this mystical beings die young. they see what no eye should see, they feel what nobody should feel, and thus they die alone and lonely, with the voices in the head, damn Eden never stood a chance.

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