Forlorn to the core,
You make a lost soul less lonelier.
To the world a complete stranger,
Because of the mask you put on.
Pharisee to humanity,
Showing no gratitude towards Deity.
A day always too late for penance,
An intentional move in disguise?
Avenging for the Hell's demon,
You call yourself a warrior.
With a sword made for one purpose,
Not to eliminate the evil, but to regenerate one.
Stabbing everyone in sight,
You live the life of a harlot.
You hold anger towards the mighty,
Because you think He loathes your soul.
Counting the days to end this entity,
You proceed to being a demon.
Questioning the words of God,
You continue to believe in satanism.
Death doesn't scare you,
Because you think the Devil will protect you.
The wind whispers one last time,
Therefore they call you Lucifer's angel.
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Points: 1436
Reviews: 13