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The devil couldn’t reach me, so he whispered through the cracks of people I loved. He wore their faces, borrowed their voices, and spoke in tones I couldn’t ignore. The devil couldn’t reach me, so he placed battles in my mind, made me question my worth, turned silence into knives, turned mirrors into enemies. The devil couldn’t reach me, so he sat patiently, knowing I’d carve my own wounds, knowing I’d fight myself harder than he ever could. evil doesn’t always arrive with fire and horns. Sometimes it arrives as the shadow of your own thoughts, and smiles because you never notice you’re the one holding the blade.
0
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 4:02 PM UTC
The devil couldn’t reach me
The devil couldn’t reach me, so he whispered through the cracks of people I loved. He wore their faces, borrowed their voices, and spoke in tones I couldn’t ignore. The devil couldn’t reach me, so he placed battles in my mind, made me question my worth, turned silence into knives, turned mirrors into enemies. The devil couldn’t reach me, so he sat patiently, knowing I’d carve my own wounds, knowing I’d fight myself harder than he ever could. evil doesn’t always arrive with fire and horns. Sometimes it arrives as the shadow of your own thoughts, and smiles because you never notice you’re the one holding the blade.
PriPoetica
Written by
16/F/Belgium
Oct 3, 2025
Oct 3, 2025 at 4:02 PM UTC
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