The Devil Is Busy

This is a piece that I wrote inspired by a woman who lives alone in misery, which I can finally give sympathy to instead of hatred.

To live in pain is but a slow sorrow..
As the Devil is busy, her garden does grow.

Her seeds are planted, nourished by fire..
Temptation offered through her desire.

What is right, and what is wrong?..
In the eyes of the beholder, does she long?.

Words exchanged, promises so real..
Passionate love from his heart, I do feel.

My moral is her immoral, there is no fear..
As I am the one who stares proudly in the mirror.

Can she say the same as she now cries alone?..
Watching from afar, as he places me on her throne.

The Devil is busy, his blood in her veins..
Hear our prayers Dear Lord, blessed love does remain.

Our faith instilled in you, each moment in time..
Carry our souls as I walk with you in mine.

Her idle mind is a demonic play ground..
She sins with pleasure, love never found.

Allow me to forgive this lonely possessed..
Together we have defeated, for she now lays to rest.

~£ee£anne~