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Her voice was like the Angel's melody
That could heal the heart's malady.

How jealous were the seraphims
While concealing their darkness through their whims.

A peach that promised eternity
Was sent in her chamber with utmost secrecy.

Delighted for such a gift of immortality,
She ate the Seed that rooted her endless melancholy.

Unable to sing, she watched the dawning of the day
And cursed all the Angels with words she couldn't say...

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
I used to have an account named, Gardenia. I cannot remember the e=mail address I used to sign up, so I basically have no way of going back to my old account. What I am doing now is "transferring" my old works to my new, official account. Some of my old works need polishing and some fixing and I will do so one of these days when I get the time.
Editing stage: 


Was thinking of 'borrowing' a few myself, but should one not eat the seeds? They root you in melancholy?

I hate gods and spirits, they're a nasty, spiteful bunch,

but this is a very fine poem.

Neopoet Directors

has someone saddened you beyond even profanity?
My dear, I hope not.
Say a rude word just to put my mind at rest, please.

Neopoet Directors

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