deepundergroundpoetry.com

Death's Devil


 
Death, owns an abacus
to taunt the passing days.
Weighs soul worth, metes out pain.
 
I am but one bead-click away
from darkened earth
or Loves sweet grace.
 
Rather burn sunshine
'neath starry eyes,
Than own heartache
of "no more time."
 
Offered up, I show my hand-
a tawny green, my own bead be  
crushed tight to whitest sanctity.
 
A different hue, hand-painted me
in suddle stubborn shades.
Devil brushes me translucent, now
(an automatic "stay")
 
Corrupt, shall not complete me
(in mind I just exist)
but Devil has vindictive beads
and places me in fist.
 
My angst and cry go unheard
as Devil moves my line,
Tallyin' sums of every score
adding erred black to mine.
 
Resistance strong, from beaded plight
I loosen from the bar.
Seek a palm to hide within
'neath lifelines of the heart.
 
Devil his due, but denied mine-
never to lay another line..
 
Ended here,  
Death's earnest search-
in palms of reason, (ne'r the abacus)
may weigh my worth  
in soiled earth.

Written by darksighs
Published | Edited 20th Jul 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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