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They were buried things

Sad and sacramental, pressing for a hymn to vanquish pain

They were funny things, quirky things, afraid and big and strange

But she could bear her multitudes, and she could keep them in

So what about her downfall was the sin?

She was hushing them like children, singing ancient lullabies

They blew to cool her blushing over rabbi’s song through countryside

Holy men should wield a force as great as all the hell they’d known

Still, they’d whisper, she was more, for she had never been alone

And haunts to haunt would cling, so starting with a few meant growing

Vaster than the wisest king

She went by their command to hear the gospel of the high, high man –

Thinking love were ruin’s match, or match to horde should stand to know the hell she bore

Then might he understand just what she’d wedded all the force of fire for?

Heaven’s prince of curly hair, he held her there

His word proclaiming gloating roads through Legion’s lair

She thought, not once before had any man let her confess that great unclean

For who would dare to ask and risk the wrath of unmasked fiends?

Just he, who swore that man to only man held fealty

Just he, who by the grace of salty hands began the rites she’d come to see

She took to heart that virtue first that every preacher needs

Faith a phantom making stronger demons flee

And she who shuddered, like in prayer, concede each fear to dream

Day devolved to dark and wild-eyed her savior stood

His holy hands raised high, all set to strike her clean and good

But she wondered with a start – had she ever planned

To sit and watch the last of all her host be damned?

“Hells no!” She cried, and ran – “I’ve taken all the exorcise I can!”

He screamed, “We haven’t finished yet! They’ll come for you again!”

“And pray,” They laughed, “That each outcast return with seven friends!”

Devils she knew laid claim on her

She’d rather than mercy would stay

For every stupid victim splits her losses anyway

So what if they had entered her against her will?

They paid their rent – their strength was her strength still

She could speak in tongues and see through lies just like the saints

She could handle snakes, and she could banish swine

She’d never tried but

Maybe she could even make that water into wine

Oh they were daunting things, haunting things

Sure, and hers to sling

So she was rocking them awake, almost glad to see them grow

Thinking, all the world have demons

But only magi know