Beware, beware,
of the devil with silver hair.
He'll drink you right up, like wine in a cup. Or he might just suck you dry. Nevermind your agonized cries. You might be able to get him off of you if you try, but I doubt his fingers will pry.
Beware, beware
of the devil with silver hair
Bloody lies, and the grayest skies. Even if he was shot, just watch him rise. He will never sympathize. With his snake eyes, he'll only ever have the ability to brutalize.
He'll trick and laugh. Like it was nothing from the start. Be wary of his seething smarts, for he bears the most sin-filled heart.
Beware, beware,
of the devil with silver hair.
YOU ARE READING
𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉 || ♛
Poetrysᴇʀ∙ᴀᴘʜ /'serəf/ ɴᴏᴜɴ ᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟɪᴄ ʙᴇɪɴɢ; ᴀssᴏᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʟɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀʀᴅᴏʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀɪᴛʏ, ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴄʜʀɪsᴛɪᴀɴ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏʟᴏɢʏ _______________________________ A 'Seraph of the End' short poetry book. (2018)
