There is in me
some sort of devil
best left unseen

his visage shown
in moments mundane
a face profane

with eyes darkened
and the corners of his mouth turned down
in something resembling a frown

his eyes burning
his neck bends towards the sky
like a child, he screams and cries

Though he is in me
I am not beyond repair
I do solemnly swear

Healing is harder
than being broken
but something faint in me has awoken

Photo by Dave Hoefler on Unsplash