I Met the Devil in a Dream.

Next to me he sat, in my darkest dreams 

At a round wooden table with one seat. 

I gazed up at his shredded, grotesque face, 

And I asked him if he was bad or good. 

So blunt and foolish, a child could be–

To grab honesty by the hand and pull. 

A devilish grin spread across his face

While fingernails as sharp as blades, they danced 

A word to me he did not need to speak,

Deep within my childish heart, I knew. 

A confidence fit for the cruelest men 

A heavy fear, a weight I could not lift  

“Bad,” he said, my heart sank infinitely. 

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