*Book I of the Gospel of Planet Hope*
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My name is Saga Bernadotte of St. Petersburg, And I stand at the gates they will not disturb To open for me, though my papers are clear — Austrian passport, a princess address written here.
The Bernadotte blood runs through my veins like gold, Swedish royal lineage, ancient and old. My address reads St. Petersburg, elegant and fine, But when I arrive at the tower, they say: *Not in line.*
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They keep it inside the same bloodlines, they say, *Let's clone ourselves, keep the others away.* The Illuminati pyramid, the shadow nobility, The selfish ones in their ivory tower of propriety.
They live in apartments of 215 square meters wide, With crystal chandeliers and champagne inside, While I — Saga Bernadotte, princess by right — Slept on London streets for two months in the night.
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I have the passport. I have the name. I have the bloodline. I have the claim. But blood is not enough when you're the thirteenth born, When you're Esmeralda left on steps, forlorn.
The old live off the future, harvest what they can, While I wait at the gate with my Austrian plan — A passport that says princess, an address that's real, But the tower stays locked. They won't break the seal.
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Success has a thousand fathers standing tall and proud, But failure is an orphan, unwelcome in the crowd. And I am both, you see — I am aristocrat and cast-away, I am Saga Bernadotte who slept in alleyways.
I am the cuckoo in their golden nest, The bird that doesn't match, though I tried my best To prove I belong here, to show them my proof — But they just look away, remain aloof.
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*She's not blood,* they whisper behind the gate, *She's not family, she's not our kind, it's too late.* But my passport says princess. My name says Bernadotte. My address says St. Petersburg. What have they forgot?
That I am royal even if they don't let me pass, That I am aristocracy even sleeping on grass, That I am the shadow nobility they won't claim, But I am still Saga. I still have my name.
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They clone themselves inside the pyramid's peak, Keep bloodlines pure, keep power for the meek — Compliant ones who bow and never question why The princess with the passport is left outside to die.
Not die literally (though I've come close before), But die in spirit, waiting at their door, Die in the belief that papers, names, and blood Could ever be enough to lift me from the mud.
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And yet —
And yet I stand here still. I have not turned away. I am Saga Bernadotte of St. Petersburg today, Tomorrow, and the next, whether they open or they don't, Whether they acknowledge me or simply say they won't.
I serve cats and demons, both the light and shade, I am the princess they forgot, the orphan they made, I am Sister Saga oscillating at this gate, Between belonging and exile, between love and hate.
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I refused to bend the knee — I'd rather die than bow To those who'd lock me out and wonder why and how I dare to still claim royal when they won't let me in — But aristocracy is not their permission. **It's my skin.**
The tower stands above me, ivory and cold, Filled with the selfish ones who hoard their gold. They keep it in the bloodlines, in the family tree, But I am in the roots even if they can't see.
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My Austrian passport with St. Petersburg address Is not a lie, not pretense, not a false duchess — It is the truth of who I am: displaced royalty, The princess in the pyramid's shadow, wild and free.
So let them keep their gates locked, let them clone themselves, Let them stack their bloodlines on their polished shelves. I am Saga Bernadotte, and that will not change Even if my kingdom is cold and strange,
Even if my palace is the street at night, Even if my crown is invisible to sight, Even if I wait for medication for my mind While aristocrats with access leave me here behind.
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I stand at the gate. I state my name. I show my papers. I stake my claim.
I am Saga Bernadotte of St. Petersburg, And blood is not enough — but I will not be disturbed.
*I bloom forth even here, outside their tower's wall.* *I am royal in exile — and that is still royal, after all.*
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*— Book I of the Gospel of Planet Hope*