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Shruti Atri Jul 2014
The angel that fell,
The one bound in hell;
Burning in fires deep and dark.

Banished from heaven,
His sins they call seven;
He eats off their bones like a shark.

Liars and cheaters,
Thieves and deceivers;
They squirm as for hell they depart.

He breeds on their fears,
He laughs at their tears,
And squeezes all hope from their heart.

He owns all their souls,
Makes them walk over coals,
He tortures their spirit with his fork;

He whips open their skin,
While he burns up their kin,
And slaughters their faith just like pork.

With hate for a heart,
He plays well his part,
As he waits for a new light of day;

A day when he shall be free,
And roam the earth with glee,
While those who banished him shall pray.

But pray as they may,
For another Godly say,
No warmth shall break through the cold;

While innocents are slayed,
And daylight delayed,
And stories of hope sell like gold.
The wanderings of an empty mind...'An idle mind is a devil's workshop'.

— The End —