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The place was dimly lit,
She strode in,
He welcomed her with heinous grin.
A pact was forged,
Had seven chances to procure,
But with each loss,
A fragment of her soul strayed,
To the sin pledged,
Suavely,he shuffled the deck,
Her eyes rapt and intense,
Lost every time,
The salient event betid,
Couldn't win a thing,
Cause her heart believed,
In the fate the devil's fingers staged,
Not in ones, her own could make.
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•єηтαηgℓє∂ ιη ωσя∂ѕ•
Poetryᴀ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴍʏ ᴘᴏᴇᴍs. ©-cuddlee- ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴀ ɢɪʀʟ ᴡʜᴏ sᴍɪʟᴇs ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴛᴏ sʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʜᴇ ɪs ғɪɴᴇ. ᴀ ʙᴏʏ ᴡʜᴏ sᴜʀʀᴏᴜɴᴅs ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ᴡɪᴛʜ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴡɪsʜᴇs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪs ʟɪғᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴇɴᴅ. Ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ sᴀʏ ᴛʜᴇʏ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴡ, ...
