Suicide of the Devil
A dagger to the heart.
Warmred oozes down his chest.
He slumps.
No pain, pleasure instead,
His heart now a hollow shell,
He is man.
Capable of Love or Hate,
He chooses neither.
The embodiment of devil may care.
This is how the devil died and I was born.
Copyright © Olin Poems By | Year Posted 2012
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