PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

A friend had been holding the hand of the devil

Kind words poured forth, certainly

A convincing mask had been donned



"Thank you for being here," the friend says



"What are friends for?" the devil says back



Pain and torment troubled this friend

The devil slipped uplifting whispers

  into the friend's pocket

He placed soft sentences of comfort

  on shelves in a house built on ash



This friend had felt lucky for the devil's company

  but the mask fell away one day

    plucked off by a glimpse of truth

      a flash of guilt



And the devil's grinning face was plain and horrible



The hand was snatched away by this friend

And the devil was left to recheck its ploys



Sometimes good comes from literally nowhere

Don't depend on this, though, dear reader



You don't depend on fog to build a bridge

across the river, do you?