A Devil

Let them be angels,
 always praised, always adored, always admired,
but slaves to the light.
I’d rather be a devil free to do as I please and capable of being anything I want.
To be free of the chains wrapped around my antitheses that are only capable to do as the light commands.
I’d rather be obscured and hated by the world then flying over everyone with blinding white wings,
 pretending the master I would serve cares about the humans that stand bellow heaven.
I’d rather be seen as an evil entity that can live freely than a statue stuck on a pedestal, unable to move,
or in a painting of a battle that was never won,
 fighting enemies that will never die,
 no matter how many times they are cut down.
I’d rather have horns on my head and wings made of the night’s shadows,
than a halo made of gold and wings of fragile feathers that break off.
If I can be a ruler unheld by the rules of light,
I’d rather be a free and shunned devil.