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The Adoration of a Faust

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In her deepest thoughts she pleads
for beauty- loving passion.
But as she hopes she changes fates
While Vileroy grants her will.
And in another place of time,
the blonde boyed treasure does reside,
under the bridge of gone- waiting for
oblivion but pure, too much
for his hands to grasp.
One brown eyed boy was driven mad-
so many situations.
Undone and done once over- thrice.
The boy was lost in folds,
Of time perhaps
and possibilities
that all his mind could fathom.
And as the girl from long ago,
stood in loving day,
Wanting nothing more than that of beauty,
Which- masked by false pretenses-
She sold her soul away,
For one far rottener than hers.
Her inner beauty perished
while atop her soul was sculpted
the face of one who made all cry.
For on her mask the flowers painted
Did little to mask a rotting soul.
Her sister sat in time’s cold Palm-
a slave to aspirations-
Tearing way at time’s coarse threads,
That hugged her shoulders all her life,
and shed them until a cave was made.
And For many a lonesome year,
in this hideaway she stood –
from the rest of the Time her cave existed
through which none but her could enter.
Starting, stopping, playing, pausing.
Her life was no longer but a thread
but one of lies- woven thick beyond all time.
Unbreakable- yet still tarnished
by the years that kissed it
inside her hideaway.
She grew old with all that time
spent inside such a place.
Unknowingly
drinking the sweetness of her sister,
which kept her age at bay.
While none
but one
knew she slowly drank
her sister’s loveliness away.
For one more story must be told.
Another girl yet stood
upon the eyes of
all the world
for on it she knew she could.
She sent out wings upon the world
she never had to leave.
In one room she could have lived-
until her soul ran dry.
While parched of soul she bled-
with each new wing One cut was made upon her face,
Until sliced she had become.
For Vileroy wanted- but not obtained
but four of these five young souls.
For one was pure
and true to heart,
while the others burn so cold.
For when their souls were taken,
By beautiful young Vileroy,
she started slipping in the end.
And so some could see her truly.
no other she could possibly be
For you see,
She was indeed Mephistopheles.




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