THE DEVIL
Who are you, Satan, but the soul that fights what's good
to change it to mere dirt, the filth that you create?
You lost the joy you had; you want all men to lose
what's in their lives of mirth and be in your sad plight.

You lead an idle life; your soul would love to laze
away the precious time as rest is your prime taste.
Great men devote the gifts of talents they've received
to do what makes the Lord so pleased with what they've gained.

An empty hand you have and soul of extreme pride.
You can't see little men have gold in their mean hands.
You show them that their gold is muck that smirches them.
They throw it and they get, like you, mere hopeless men.
BY JOSEPH ZENIEH
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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