It's a pretty looking demon,
flashing out from the fluorescent halos.
It's razor-sharp, though
and its looks can kill you.
Drawn to its shape,
like a foolish moth to flames,
it finds its way to me,
and fits into my grasp.
[[too perfectly]]
Unknown to me, it falls,
sharp-side down onto my fair skin.
I don't feel very much--
this demon is sly.
Angst and emotion
with hate and regret drip to the floor.
My tears dry at last,
and for now, it has all passed.
[[too quickly]]
Years pass and tears clash,
time flies and thoughts relapse.
And every day my head's more level:
and I'm done striking deals with the devil.
Adding your comment:
hehe, doesn't matter too much.
