Royal Poetess


A curse, disguised as a gift-
an agreement made with the Devil.

I danced with His darkness-
prayed for departure.
So feet He had brought-
a treat, so I thought-
I was ready-
no surrender.

A gifts what He gave me,
a gift, not an offer.
For this gift bore “conditions”.

I must suffer all thoughts-
His prisoner of dark,
given words I must remember.
He gave me His pen-
darkness returned me,
with gifts I could bleed-
no surrender.

Yet as He returned me,
His secrets He whispered-
the warmth of His breath still lingers...

I summon His Darkness,
I play with His highest-
when dark gets too dark-
I surrender.
For that’s how I became
such beauty, yet ugly-
that’s how He bestowed me-
“Royal Poetess”.

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This Poems Story

I was given a choice.