A demon came, and against his shadow,
pressed, I basked in blindness
My heart, he closely observed
and noticing its weight,
thought to offer me a kindness

He asked of me to sell my soul
In exchange, no more would my sorrows be
His promise was of lighter a heart,
a swifter step, and sadness left behind me

I told him this, in quick retort,
for I am no ordinary fool:

Although I may carry a burden
superfluous, indeed
I am a poet, sir,
and thus,
in this forever,
a heavy heart will I need