Victorian Sermon

The tranquil face of cruelty
behoves the devil as a mask.
Than that of domesticity,
there is no hate more intimate.

The girl who can't believe that love
need not be so conditional,
the boy who's long since lost
a need for love consensual...

These faces do not pulse
and burst with necrophilic pus.
They're often deeply false
with lines of youth, beauty.

You find the Devil in its voice,
in how it exercises choice.