Mere air in the seeps of my skin, hollow like the whispers of the devil’s grin,

bleeding out ribbons of red silk and leading a wandering mind into a horrid trope

Hun tsk tsk laughed the girl with a flick of the wrist, soon 

devoured at the hands of a man split into six, six, six.

He laughs to tell the tale of insanity feeding for the consumption of its enemy, 

gorging greedily with no desire to taste defeat. 

I say, my misery was the start of the plantation of insanity, a harvest that bloomed ever so beautifully. 

I bleed and ponder how we may all cry at the loss of our innocence.

For it was sewn into the skin of our being, then taken from us, never to be 

attached once more

Even the devil hides in the blood of the innocent. It is only extraordinary to see who he fools.