The devil came to my door

He rang the bell and cried

He lied that I was once adored

His chest puffed out with pride

His deception blackly oozed because

There is blood upon his hands

By his nature he’s embodied faux pas

In his hollowed-out grandstand

Convinced there is an audience

Still, he bows his head to pray

“No.” is nothing obvious

I refuse him the time of day

He invades my home with anger

Grief that should have long been spent

His recklessness is dangerous

But he simply won’t relent

His wounds are dark and oozing

His heart is arctic cold

He reminds me that he thinks of me

At least that’s what I’m told

His prayers remain unanswered

He leans on crutch and wit

His aura is all cancered

No blame will he remit