A requested piece by a goth queen..
Dark empath to spiritual Narcissist..
I do not kneel for false kings.
I do not pray to your shame.
I wear guilt like high fashion
And call down saints by name.
My alters are built of broken glass.
My scriptures do not burn, they endure.
You preach control.. I preach collapse..
And I walk it, sacred and sure.
Click-clack.. Amen!!!
Paint me wicked.
Paint me wild.
I am Heaven’s exiled child.
Veins of gold, rage divine,
Dress me sacred, dress me divine.
This is my stiletto manifesto.
Felt in the fire, not the fear.
My sins are sequined, my faith sincere.
I do not bow. I rise in lace.
My prayers are thunder, my war is great.
Echoed in stilettos down cathedral floors.
If I must suffer, let me suffer more.
I found GOD in the mirror, and she roared.
Candles burn in my corset bones.
Every scar a sacred tone.
They said, “Repent.”
I said, “Reformed in hope, through judgement like a storm.”
Fashioned as wolf, I burned it down.
Turned holy water into crown.
Incense smokes my battle cries.
These lips speak in tongues,
Goodbye.
Can I get a hell of slayer, hell of slay?
Can I get a witness, babe?
We are witnesses, heels high, heads higher.
No kings. No rules. Only fire.
This is my stiletto manifesto.
Blessed are the bold, the glam, the vile.
I bleed in rhythm, sin with grace,
Kiss the void with a flawless face.
Leaves fall, energy lashes,
Praising pain, storms still shout my name.
Click-clack, deliver instead.
I did not ask to be saved.
I became the sermon in this place.
We do not repent.
We reign.
