To him, no one is a Devil’s advocate

"What are those?"

"What do you mean?" The devil replied.

"Your poky-head things?" The child Asked...
With wonder and fear on his tongue.

"A symbol." He replied, slowly.

"For what?" The child pleaded, Curiously.

"It's meant to remind people of how
Lucky they are to live and breathe
Without being forced to wear their
Biggest fears like a cryptic crown."

He said,

As he hung his head...
In his own kind of deprecating HELL...

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem