Treasure Island

Simon Quperlier

(27/03/1994 / Mombasa Kenya)

Confession


My mind is clogged, it can no longer filter
thoughts, I'm now like a living dead, I'm my own
slave, you made a confession, you unplucked
your feigned feathers and you whispered you
were not an angel, you were the demon that
never hurt, the phantom that would be my
guardian angel, the demonic girl that needed
affection, then I asked you, why me? You
exercised your spell on me and made me believe
I'm the true documentation of hell's beauty, oh
demon, you have possessed me, you have
confined me in these unbreakable cages, you
want us to wed in the fires of hell, you want us to
burn the bibles and qurans, break the crosses
and crucifixes, then sacrifice the reverends on the
church altars, now I'm seeking justice, I'm trying
to call upon the holy spirit, I'm trying to imbibe
the holy wine, and if God won't water down my
distress with blood of Jesus, then the noose is the
only option.

Submitted: Friday, November 01, 2013
Edited: Friday, November 01, 2013
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