Pretty in Red

5 1 0
                                    

I am a Devil

Cloaked in a simple skin

Thin fabric hiding a mind made of wrath

Pierce it if you dare, unleash the dark

Take a glimpse and run, boy, run

See the crimson in my pale flesh?

See the horns hidden in my dark hair?

See that smile laughing at the dead?

Giggle at their pain

Cackle at their despair

Grin at that which delights the twisted


I am a Devil!

My crimson flesh burns away the humanity

Once resided in me, now but a whisp

A desperate, fleeting thing

I brush away with a twitch of my lips

A smile you find a weapon of seduction

A tool in the hands of a demon, a whore

A girl, a beast, a boy, a mellow monster


I am a Devil!

My crimson skin eats away the personable facade

You crave the peaceful society even as I burn it down

Pull it apart brick by brick with my blood-soaked hands

Set the ashes on fire and sing a gleeful tune

Stack bodies like bricks

Rebuild the world in its image

Peaceful streets now silent in the sweet hand of death


I am a Devil!

The cloak that billows in my wake

Symbol once of hope, now of despair

Grass withers at the feet you kiss

If I gave you any thought

Perhaps I'd step on you too

What is a man to a god?

I cannot grasp at why one would make man

But I find pleasure in finishing them

Watching them quiver and shake

It brings a smile to my venomous lips


I am a Devil!

Not a creature of hate, no

Hate is an emotion, love is an emotion

Baby, monsters don't feel

My soft skin is for touching dammed men

My lips are a poison kiss

My hands brush lightly on ancient scars

My eyes alone could kill

But it's the mind you want to avoid, beautiful boy

All wretched things come from somewhere

All unspeakable deeds are done by someone

And I am a creature of nightmare


Yet you call the soul of Satan an angel

Surely a sweet face could do no harm

Put the gun in my pale hand

Never imagine I'd paint it crimson

With the hearts of a thousand men

You cannot see the beast I can be

Even as I imagine a nightmare

A gift to destroy only you


(27 September 2015)

An Aged, Bitter Collection of Poetry, Prose, & PapersWhere stories live. Discover now