Seven (Saxophone Edit)

British female using my voice, Soft rap, emotional soprano saxophone

Pride came first, crowned in mirrors, a queen made of reflection and ache. She touched my face like it was a kingdom built for kneeling, and I rose to meet her like a prayer too proud to bow.

Seven shadows dance in the firelight,
Seven sins leaning into the dark,
One by one they wait at the threshold,
Whispering, let us under your skin.
They don’t arrive with teeth,
They arrive as longing.

Envy was quieter, silk over bone, painting every other life in gold and leaving mine in greyscale. She never stole a thing, she only made me notice absence until it sounded like truth.

Wrath cracked the door like thunder, a storm wearing a human shape. She burned through bone to memory, too holy to touch and too hungry to refuse. Beside her I did not tremble, but I did not feel.

Greed came robed in radiance, a saint carved from hunger. She did not consume, she claimed, marking what was mine as hers and what was hers as never enough, a sovereign of “more” disguised as mercy.

Lust walked barefoot through silence, thunder braided through her breath. She spoke in the language of pulse and unmade me back into clay, pulling me toward worship that burns out before it saves.

Gluttony wore comfort like velvet, a softness that smothered sweetly. She called hunger proof of living and fullness a promise of safety, drowning me gently in the luxury of never having to rise.

Sloth arrived like winter’s hush, not decay but surrender, not collapse but forgetting. She taught me that a spirit breaks not by shattering, but by slowly silencing its own motion.

Seven shadows dance in the firelight,
Seven sins curled beneath my ribs,
I did not fall,
I opened the door,
They were never hunters,
Only mirrors I mistook for saints.

2734/7500

Pride came first, crowned in mirrors, a queen made of reflection and ache. She touched my face like it was a kingdom built for kneeling, and I rose to meet her like a prayer too proud to bow. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins leaning into the dark, One by one they wait at the threshold, Whispering, let us under your skin. They don’t arrive with teeth, They arrive as longing. Envy was quieter, silk over bone, painting every other life in gold and leaving mine in greyscale. She never stole a thing, she only made me notice absence until it sounded like truth. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins leaning into the dark, One by one they wait at the threshold, Whispering, let us under your skin. They don’t arrive with teeth, They arrive as longing. Wrath cracked the door like thunder, a storm wearing a human shape. She burned through bone to memory, too holy to touch and too hungry to refuse. Beside her I did not tremble, but I did not feel. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins leaning into the dark, One by one they wait at the threshold, Whispering, let us under your skin. They don’t arrive with teeth, They arrive as longing. Greed came robed in radiance, a saint carved from hunger. She did not consume, she claimed, marking what was mine as hers and what was hers as never enough, a sovereign of “more” disguised as mercy. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins leaning into the dark, One by one they wait at the threshold, Whispering, let us under your skin. They don’t arrive with teeth, They arrive as longing. Lust walked barefoot through silence, thunder braided through her breath. She spoke in the language of pulse and unmade me back into clay, pulling me toward worship that burns out before it saves. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins leaning into the dark, One by one they wait at the threshold, Whispering, let us under your skin. They don’t arrive with teeth, They arrive as longing. Gluttony wore comfort like velvet, a softness that smothered sweetly. She called hunger proof of living and fullness a promise of safety, drowning me gently in the luxury of never having to rise. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins leaning into the dark, One by one they wait at the threshold, Whispering, let us under your skin. They don’t arrive with teeth, They arrive as longing. Sloth arrived like winter’s hush, not decay but surrender, not collapse but forgetting. She taught me that a spirit breaks not by shattering, but by slowly silencing its own motion. Seven shadows dance in the firelight, Seven sins curled beneath my ribs, I did not fall, I opened the door, They were never hunters, Only mirrors I mistook for saints.

0/500