a demon sat
in an idling car
smoking a spliff
and tending a scar
to music like teeth chatter
that hung in the air
like the smoke scattered
in patterns
combing his hair,
and there!
sat delicate on the wreath
was a light that flies
and alights 'pon starry skies
and tries to dismiss
the dust kicked up
by the demons at dawn.

there it sat
in wonder wondering
why the demon
was awake,
still stoking fires
in the early hours,
but with all its powers
it could not divert
the demons heart
from the dirt,

but still it tried,
because the light that flies
is the angel in the demon's eyes.