Little Demon

3/25/02





Come taste my blood



'Cause I'm your sacrifice



You little demon



I'm your ticket



Your innocence



I know you want to taste me



Taste my blood upon your tongue



SO what's wrong?



You little demon



You know why I'm here



I'm your sacrifice at hand



With my death at your command



You can catch me



I won't run



I'm laying here



Bound and tide



Why don't you taste my blood?



Taste your freedom



Fresh and metallic



I've always been so fond of you!



Why should you expect a struggle?



I'm your redemption you are your redeemer



And my blood will set you free



I feel important!



I feel so needed



You little Demon



You don't control me



I'm here at my own will



Now taste my blood



Sweet and metallic



On your tongue



My flesh, I can hear it tear apart



I feel so loved



I'm going to save you



I'm your ticket to heaven



Because you bought your own to Hell



So I'm your Heaven



Come and kiss blood-smeared lips



Here's your ticket



I was your Heaven



Say goodbye to Hell

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Raychul Bruneau's picture

The title of this one caught my eye. Though I'm not sure what you were expressing, through the gradual change of perspective, I thought it was really reflective of switching roles. I don't know if I'm the only one, but I'm sure from time to time other people feel it to: Getting so tired of getting shit from every angle you think how nice it would be to play the villain for once.

Anyway, whatever you meant in this poem, I love it!

R.