In a stranger’s bed, she finds warmth
Yet she still feels cold.
Her body a temple for the devil
To carve his initials.
Tear-stained pillows and ***-soaked sheets
Became the cornerstone of her identity.
As the Devil continues his invade.
In a stranger’s bed, she finds acceptance,
Yet she still feels rejection.
Her mind a playground for the Devil’s adversaries
To take her heart.
Yet she cherishes those mornings
As if they were her last.