Angel of a Demon

The best days of mine were spend in the arms of a beautiful women.
Mom, why do I cry when your arms are around me?

I don’t cry, mother. I laugh.
These tears are just cinders of love burning in the middle of the campfire which is my heart.

For the best times to come and those which already have swayed away, I love thee from every dimension my heart echoes its beats.

The nights of sleep you sacrificed, the days of pain you endured, the best you have left for me.

I am nervous. I’m scared.

The first cry and laugh in your womb, the first touch of love, the first look in my eye, the first emotional bloom.

The reflection of evil, the carcass of love, the flower of the night, the force of the wild.

The blood on the floor. The tears littered around. The dark seeping through.

The maladies of life. The fear in me. The joke of the people. The strangeness around me. Oh mom, I’m scared of the venomous rife.

Days pass by.
And age creeps into.
Soon it’s goodbye.
Never want that memory tattoo.

Oh mom, shine on me. Shine on me. Shine on me.
The music has gone slow and silent, I can hear my heart.

My fingers tremble as I write and my soul shivers while I think.
Every emotion is a mirror of a malice. And every evil scattered has love inside.

What a demon am I for an angel like you?

I love you.