By DG Daemon 2001
The lighting of candles, the reciting of scrolls.
The pointing of swords, the great gong tolls.
From each point of the pentagram, I produce the sound of bells,
And from within the circle emerge the fiercest winds of Hell.
An invocation to the Master; it brings a sense of peace,
And as I speak these words, I fall humbly to my knees.
As I move into the circle, I feel immediately possessed.
For there is a strong, burning hatred growing deep inside my chest.
The Hellish winds grow stronger, and begin a circular motion.
I feel as if I'm taken over by some evil, magical potion.
I speak an incantation, and my hatred burns even worse.
As the presence of evil grows stronger, I speak the final verse.
Then a voice interrupts my thoughts, and tells me the way things must be.
It is at that moment that I realize, the daemon I've been summoning...
...Is buried deep inside of me.
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