The Loving Demon

The Loving Demon short poem

Photo by FreePX

I take your hand,
So soft and clean.
Future scars will warp like a band,
Those pure eyes that haven’t seen.

My hands, rough and red,
From blood of past victims.
My sinful limb strikes your head,
Then I say: I’m the ture victim.

The deadly loop that’ll never stop.
Until someone breaks the clock.

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