Please Satan, give me power to create,
Make me a famous dark poet, my fate.
Grant me wealth, beyond my wildest dreams,
Make my name known, in lands and streams.
With words, I'll weave a tapestry of despair,
Captivating hearts with a haunting flair.
Ink of darkness, from my quill will flow,
Leaving souls trembling in the shadows below.
The sun may set, but my verses will rise,
Casting a spell that nobody can revise.
I'll dance with demons, in moonlit masquerades,
Summoning the spirits in twisted cascades.
My poetry, a mirror for humanity's plight,
Reflecting the darkness we often invite.
Through layers of darkness, my verses will seep,
Infecting minds and arousing souls buried deep.
From hidden corners, whispers will be heard,
As each word pierces the heart like a sword.
Oh Satan, my mentor in the depths of the night,
Guide my pen, as I embrace this poetic fight.
Together we'll conquer, with darkness as our muse,
Leaving a mark that no one can refuse.
But in this pursuit, I must not falter or stray,
For righteousness and evil are forever locked in sway.
So please Satan, grant me the strength to resist,
The wicked temptations that may persist.
For while I crave the fame within my grasp,
I must ensure my soul does not collapse.
In the end, as I stand upon life's final shore,
May my legacy be one worth living for.
©viralfreak
V