It shrieks inside my mind,
Pounding and piercing...
Like the devil himself,
Versus an angel.
One side says ominously,
'The path you tread is filled with love,
And a trace of compa**ion,
For those you do love.
Tread without leaving footsteps
Imprinted on the earth.
Then there is no turning back.
This is your lesson,
And you must choose it.'
I believe this was my dear angel.
Bless him.
Then there was a croak,
The devil himself, I suppose.
'Blood-red the hands, your foes obtain,
And so it will be the beet red clouds will rain.
Listen: you need not tread the ground,
Why not soar in the sky, not making a sound?
Cursed be the angel Cupid
With his weapons of love...
I have all you need for freedom.'
I can sense Cupid waving
To me as I began towards my demon.
'Do not listen, it will take and murder
What you know.
This is, I understand, an overwhelming temptation.
To cave in to slavery,
Of God's evil creation.
But this is your decision,
Your choice of the season,
And I'm telling you not to
Listen to your voice of treason.
For the devil carries a satanic sense of rhyme,
And it would be best if you would carry only...
That angelic sense of...Mine.