eleven ten

jury

i sold my soul to the Devil. God snuck into his room late at night and accused him of thievery. "it was never given to you," the Devil pleaded as God demanded corporate punishment. "everything is mine, mine, mine," God growled. His narcissism stank the room, "Mine, Mine, Mine." and that's how the Devil lost his hand to a jury of seraphim whose eyes he never saw, but he could've sworn their firey, burning bodies made them look like demons.