The devil himself,
Fears the day.
When the hair upon his head,
Turns grey.
He washes it,
All day and night.
Ready for the grey hairs,
To fight.
He will fight,
But he won't win.
As the old age,
Takes over him.
All frail and old,
He shall lay.
With every bit of hair,
Turned grey.
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Poems
PoetryI've suddenly fallen in love with poems. Here are some poems I've made. Hope you enjoy
