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The Boy With Black Wings
There once was a boy with black wings.
He dabbled with terrible magic things.
His goal was not to be corrupted,
But his plan was interrupted.
The devil spotted a young one,
Full of knowledge, his work was half done.
He spoke quietly with him,
Filling the boy to the brim.
Now he sings,
Of devilish things,
Cruel and terribly, horribly harsh,
He is behind the demons’ marsh.
Roses may be red, but he’s good as dead,
And violets may be blue, But his heart went askew.
The boy with black wings knows he is wrought,
The devil's soul is what he bought.
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Favorite Quote:
"To these the past hath its phantoms,<br /> More real than solid earth;<br /> And to these death does not mean decay,<br /> But only another birth" <br /> - Isabella Banks