The devil's on your door,
He doesn't need to ask for entrance,
You're still a bit sore,
From your last shared dance,
He softy groans from outside,
Caressing the wooden walls,
He's always claimed he's on your side,
And picked up all your calls,
He begins to turn the knob,
He had the keys all along,
This shouldn't be part of the job,
Feeling like all you do is wrong,
The devil's in your home,
And in his hand, holds a blade,
Your mind wants to break his bones,
And watch all of him fade,
He opens your fist,
And puts the blade in it,
You need to resist,
And find the need to quit,
He raises his gaze,
And puts his hand on top of yours,
You think there's so many other ways,
But his face begins to blur,
When you look down,
A coat of red drapes your forearm,
And you think you might drown,
For he's pushing the blade,
Cutting into your own arm.
YOU ARE READING
an attempt at poetry
PoetrySincerely, just an attempt at poetry in which I try to put into words all the thoughts that rush through my mind! I really hope you enjoy <3 ps. English is not my first language so pleaaasee keep that in mind, I take any suggestions you may have
