Risen out of favor, the
demon lost its wings; a
momentary lapse of evil,
granted to a more pathetic
soul; its transient spark of
compassion, an elemental
blink of its eye, heaved it
into the mortal realm, a
punishment for corruption;
it awakened within the
wretched soul’s mind, as a
dark passenger, perhaps,
for he who felled its villainy;
a retributive satellite wherein
malefic skill could be honed,
and a return to the deep
could be forged; it was soon
accosted by madness and pain,
the likes of which it had
never inflicted nor imagined;
it fought for control, to no
avail; rent into submission,
insanity flayed by something
beyond; crushing blackness in
a frozen cell, it soon realized
the sin of its failure hadn’t a
second chance, but an eternity
in Hell’s unspeakable Hell
art: autoportrait by Peterio
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Thank you, Phil
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