Diablo is back.
"I will devour your being," he says to me, taunting.
It's so easy for him now. Now that night is falling.
Eternity with me a vow he gives me as he's grinning.
And again I wonder how to stop myself from falling
Back into the pits of hell wherein before you I was living
Because it's not exactly what most would have you believing.
It's not as they say "seas of molten copper and fire"
Oftentimes it's a mere lack of reason or desire
To keep going and instead a nagging feeling to expire
As if clothed with a massive dense leaden attire
As if Yahweh himself has yielded to tire.
But the facade often lies to show nothing is dire.
Hey there how ya doin I'm new to the whole poetry thing.