Mephistopheles.

I'm sitting in purgatory
A deserving end
To my shitty story

You think you know who I am
But you don't know what I've done
Some call me the devil
Some call me his forgotten son

I'll take your heart at the start
And say you have mine
Once you realize I'm empty
I'll leave you all alone, crying

I've done a thing or two
That I can't say I regret
I'll dig into your memories
Make it impossible to forget

They say that there are monsters
That live under your bed
But I lay beside you
And plant doubt in your head

Now the question to ask
That you'll have to figure out
Am I talking about someone different
Or am I describing myself? 

devilheartMonstersriddle

◄ No Title.

Punk Rockers Don't Sing The Blues. ►

Comments

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Jackie Phillips

Wed 31st Jan 2018 16:58

A very clever little poem 😃

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keith jeffries

Wed 31st Jan 2018 15:53

Nick, your poetry improves by the word because it comes from the inner self. Thank you. Keith

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Brooke Valdivia

Wed 31st Jan 2018 14:53

Sounds like you wrote from your heart. I like it.

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