He Is the Devil’s Son
He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t blink
just stands and lets the silence sink
his shadow walks a breath ahead
and points at things not really dead
He’s not the fire, he’s the coal
the quiet heat that eats the soul
no horns, no tail, no flashing sign
just eyes like rust and turpentine
He’s handsome, but something’s wrong
he hums a tune that doesn’t belong
a lullaby with teeth inside
a nursery rhyme the angels hide
He’ll charm the snakes, then wear their skin
he’ll crack a grin and pull you in
no need for threats, no grand deceit
you’ll follow him with willing feet
They made him in a grief-stained bed
with fists and fears and things unsaid
his lullaby was slammed-back doors
he learned to count by keeping scores
He doesn’t cry, he doesn’t care
he’s what you find when no one’s there
a cold that creeps beneath the floor
a name you knew, but not before
He doesn’t ask, he never begs
he plants his rage and grows new legs
and when he walks, the walls lose shape
the locks all break, the clocks escape
So if he smiles, then run, not plead
he doesn’t hunt — he lets you lead
and when you fall, he doesn’t gloat
he just removes your name like smoke
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (1)
Sounds like the people I meet on dating sites 😢😢