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 © | Year Posted 2012

Poem

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Breidenthal Avatar
January 16, 2018 at 7:49 PM
Very interesting composition! A favorite that I will be reading again! Always, Laura
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