Blood Pact.

When light no longer 

rose to kiss me

my lips ached in the 

shadows of 

demons wings,

brushing against 

my trembling skin

for I had sold 

my soul for fame

with my music,

and the devil had 

at long last 

claimed his due.

Mine was a 

magnificent 

voice given 

that I did not know

I would die for,

after the contract 

was signed.

But the brilliance 

of inspiration 

abandoned me,

leaving me with 

nothing I could sing.

Others music 

was just sandpaper, 

raw and scratchy 

in my throat.

Only my own 

soulful lyrics 

and the haunting melodies 

of my fondest dreams

would woo the masses.

But I had 

sold my soul,

for a perfect set 

of vocal chords 

that now 

could barely hum 

the harmonies 

of my despair.

At the pinnacle

of my fame

I found myself 

timbling into obscutiry

So I slit my throat 

in a moment of angst,

angry at its inadequacies 

I severed it,

not aware that...

Far below 

the devil prepared a 

vast amphitheater for me 

to spend eternity 

singing in.

but I no longer had 

perfect pitch

and astounding vocals

in that hellish place 

where I was left 

to badly entertain

the thousands 

of damned music lovers 

who were left deaf, 

their eyes pleading 

for a single note

of hope amidst 

endless despair 

that my pitiful voice 

could not answer.