Monroe darling, tell me for you was it the same.
For all your success was your deal the thing to blame?
Mrs Winehouse was your addicition a blessing in disguise.
Is it what satan gave to you in order for fame in your eyes?
Iíve drunken that bottle of absinthe and spoken to the green fairy.
the fact that the white rabbit keeps intervening is extremely contrary,
Ive told alice many times before I believe her to be a liar.
For drugs created wonderland for her true desire.
Iím always bought back to the darkest moment.
Maybe I want some feeling for my own condolence.
Because Im here again outside this cathedral.
Torn between my innocence and sinful evil.

Theres a cross in my path thats shining blue.
A hypnotic seduction begging to come through,
Itsí screaming a blissful rebirth of creative sins,
A toxic punch in the throat like a shot of fresh gin.

Its feels like a temptation walk down memory lane,
A stroll through my fucked past, but something new to gain.
A sensation that makes me believe I could learn something new,
A warning that my disturbed heart is begging me not to do.

It's an invitation to be apart of something like never before,
A world of dark magic, drugs and mystical forgotten whores.
A through the glass, new world kind of feeling,
Thats hidden for true sinners, hence its satanic concealing.

I can smell the tobacco of a menthol cigarette in the air,
Making my temptation to give in way too hard to bare.
The taste of whiskey is on my lips, quenching my thirst.
Making me believe this situation was planned for coerced.

The cross is inverting like I have witnessed many times before.
A unnerving feeling I believed has been placed for my lure.
To bring me home to where I have worked so hard to not belong,
and theres that hum in the background, the devils calling song.

Iíve only just noticed Iím at the crossroads Iíve been so many times.
It's in my vision every time I pushed boundaries and crossed the lines.
It's mockery on my behalf, but thats what the devil does best.
A joke on his hand, but on mine a scheme and harmful test.

My nose is bleeding like it used to from my days of blow.
Where it was just me and a mirror for a one night show.
And all of a sudden my arm has started pulsating.
A bruise like feeling thats extremely agitating.

Taking me back to the darkest and weakest moment in my life.
Where every mistake I made cut deep like a knife.
When all of my demons voices narrowed right on in.
Is when pleasure of quiet came from the shot of heroine.

This is all a mistake, and this time the lure wont work.
Iíve walked this line a million times, Iíve washed off the dirt.
I only allow my inspiration to walk the path of sin.
Iíll decide if I take that shot of nasty fucking gin.

This seduction will no longer claim my soul.
Because a cross unfortunately will always keep me whole.
I still talk to satan, he lives in the back of my over imaginative head.
He wont leave me until Iím left for a gothic funeral shadowing me dead.
I cant hate on someone who helped me get to exactly where I am.
after all its god who led me to the world of the damned.

Marilyn honey, I understand you now.
You changed yourself for fame to bow.
It gave you everything, but trapped you as well,
Into a cage of Hollywood, your own personal hell.

I guess that cross will always be a temptation.
It's around my neck to hold my sinful damnation.
Theres a twist in this revival narration.
Its that Iím in the hell of my own creation.
Written by ChronicleSinner
Author's Note
This poem is about the dark times in my life, a trip down memory lane that I believe has come to its peak.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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