I never noticed the devil on my shoulder.
They sat there, patient and waiting.
Waiting for me to notice the angel on the other side,
With their broken, shattered halo and their dimming light.
The false impression of a grin stamped across their face.
That the devil had a fiery glow, burning embers and an expression of loss.
That they were an advocate for other peoples darkness,
and the angel had a cold air of self-righteousness that I constantly found myself being swayed by.
I've never been one for signs, but perhaps I should have seen this coming?
YOU ARE READING
The diary of Seth Alexander
PoetryI write to cope with life, so maybe this might help someone else cope too, idk. Trigger warning for suicidal ideation, S/A, and Abuse. There's not many mentions of them directly as this is more about my emotions and moments of reflection, all neatl...
