Debt


Oh what becomes again of day when
devils spin their deviant ways and
with their claws they leave me splayed
now open I'm found vacant--
murky void of empty shell
as I lie still prepared for Hell
though nothing's here for me to sell
and Satan expects his payment.
The prince sits high upon his throne
not interested in flesh or bone,
rips out my tongue I got on loan
and leaves me with no defense.
I state my case absent of words
with movements crass and sounds absurd
and he acts as if he's never heard
such pitiful a penance.
I flip and flail and cry and whine;
dear devil does not blink an eye as
he motions toward the lake of fire
where dogs and demons surface.
So Satan stands and starts to speak,
"I want you nowhere close to me;
instead you'll wander endlessly
with no comfort and no purpose,"
so here I am..

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem