I look at devil hands,
And do I get scared?
Get frightened and yell,
Or call my best friend?
Instead I wonder why,
They so crooked,.
Unkempt; is the devil so disorganized?
Now I think of our similarities,
Huge pride, ego breathing,
I smile and say how right..,
Let me take a picture,
Poetic imagination, go wild!
The devil’s given up,
I guess from all I’ve learnt,
Horror movies or from how events turn,
Is that the best way to combat evil,
a simple problem and stress givers,
Is to comically laugh at their thought,
Because nothing is actually lost,
Even if the pumping of our blood stops.
Whether you are healthy,
Or totally drained,
There’s nothing to fear,
Death is just death,
The devil can’t do anymore,
He will be puzzled and ask what makes you so bold,
While all you can do,
Is sigh with relief..
You know it’s better to die,
Than look that wrinkled and old..