Parable of Sheol (Part 1)

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Speak of the devil and I shall appear like a Prince guised in stately attire and cheer-
My crown is a watch and my scepter sunglasses, my smile is crafted to never draw fear.
It is to my attention the ball of the year is this night at the club, I assure you I'm here,
My eyes scan the scene with a carnal demeanor for glances, and here you are, drinking a beer.

"The rave lights have only just started to flicker, you're sipping on draft, can I offer you liquor?"
She signed her approval, a wink and a snicker, so I pulled out a bill and produced her elixir.
A hobby acquired, I'm skilled as a mixer. I figured but one dose of powder would fix her.
The straw in her drink for but two seconds quivered-a stir makes the sugar dissolve a lot quicker.

Her face turned away, talking gibberish loudly, anxiety never began to surround me.
The blur of the party was in full effect and I knew that my actions were carried out soundly.
A swivel, a smile, and now an arrival. "My friend wants to join us both for awhile."
How wonderfully vile, I've doubled my winnings! I turned and was met with a burst of denial.

I suddenly faced it wide-eyed: shining metal. At once my heart leaped and I cried, sentimental.
My mind turned in cycles it never prepared in attempts to produce words sufficiently gentle.
My mouth opened wide but I hadn't a sentence; my focus, once ruses, now all of repentance.
Her finger moved slowly, I grimaced now knowing that Hell was my only foreseeable entrance.

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