My Own DevilA Poem by streetroseMy devil wears old tennis shoes And faded graphic t-shirts His hair his wavy and always mussed Jeans always faded and well-worn My devil taps out new rhythms Every night onto my tattered soul Never the same beat twice His being the embodiment of music My devil is too smart for his own good Always seeing more than meets the eye Noticing absolutely everything And storing away the information My devil is really an angel The sweetest soul I’ve ever met My soul is his, but my body another’s And I am trapped in my wickedness © 2016 streetroseAuthor's Note
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Compartment 114
Compartment 114 Stats
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12 Reviews Added on June 6, 2016 Last Updated on June 6, 2016 Author
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