Where paper finds purpose on travels with a pen in hand

In a universe of light a glow with heavenly shine, I am a star of ash and dust hung in darkened sky, formed on solar winds that carry the fated remains of demons who have fallen short of the wills of devils and gods

A fine form of cloven hoof and malicious spite to the messenger of fallen things that plague the minds of persons cast in lesser light

A ghost a shadow of stony blood to flow the length of cursed flesh, as all around I see the best of fruitful beings and angelic bliss, yet in my depressive depths as a fated figure I will be to all a hand me down saint

No less happy than that I haunt in faded shades of sanity lost for where the many find less merry mirth of human cost, I am one with what lies between the devil and the damned which is where I wait to be blessed by better sights

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