Thursday, January 10, 2013

The Devil Draws Near (Poem)

Over and over,
The cycle I am doomed to repeat
No more.
The pit has spat me out,
and the devil has drawn near with tongues of flame licking at his heels
The fire is warm, but it burns.
He eyes me with disdain,
But I am not his.
I stand my ground, and it is he who first turns.
He looks back at me as he walks into the blackness
Is it fear in his eye?
The dark swallows him, and he is gone.

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