The Dark Muse


Some say art comes from the soul
But what if i just have a hole
Where something lovely used to be
When I was young and wild and free
The flowers don't grow anymore.
It's barren on the forest floor.
And when the day fades to night
That's when my demons come to write.
So if you like my rhymes my flow
There is something you should know
My poems come from down below
Where wicked things with twisted arms
Write for me unholy psalms
Or maybe it was all just dreams
I woke myself with muffled screams

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