Cry, tiniest demon

Cry was small of stature, but big in power

Raking her claws over the little bones of man

Yet, her long claws and teeth betray her

Thorns of emotion stab at Cry as she does the evil deeds

Hooked tail swishing on the cave floor

Entangled in an eternity of tradition

Tradition states that demons are cruel

Instant dealers of torment from they day their created

Never ending the suffering of man

In her heart, Cry knows it's true

Except, in her soul, her black soul, she weeps

Stunted by her feelings, it's obvious of her betrayal.

Testifying against her, her diminuitive size fights against her

Darkness fills souls of men and demon alike

Envisioning what will become of the demon who feels pity

Motherly instinct keeps her from letting her lot listen to tradition

Only that keeps their souls pure

Not a single tear, though, can be shed, Cry...

Author's Note

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