They stare with eyes ablaze,
a sea of faceless faces
the crowd’s anticipation
awash as notes slip out
to bounce across the crowded waves
Her body trembles in delight,
alight with a terrible fright,
while her soul bleeds out
painting the stage,
an effigy to their whims
And if it’s done well,
she’ll be welcomed
to bleed again to feed
their fevered hunger
✨Deferential Devil✨
Dimpled and drunk,
water lapped at the soil
as though trying to sate
its boundless hunger
with morsels of moss and vine
✨Deferential Devil✨
You must let your truth speak
in volumes never heard
so the ignorant, oft deaf masses,
can know what they must learn
✨Deferential Devil✨
Written with the first line challenge from Atticus Poetry on Poetizer.
I dreamt strange things
as my mind tried to cling
to places, and people
who’d left their mark
but didn’t bother to stay
✨Deferential Devil✨
The beauty and the curse
of those we lose to early death
is the perfection
left in their wake
✨Deferential Devil✨
I breathe in peace
and exhale this pain
Knowing time filters
the most insane
✨Deferential Devil✨
Pic credit: unknown, message for credit. Image discovered in a free image search.
Broken dreams
and broken things
That’s what abuse is made of
✨Deferential Devil✨
I watched them wither
and turn yellow with age
they fell to their death
not out of fear or rage
but with a graceful fluttering
like dancers upon a stage
✨Deferential Devil✨
There’s a small chance
that I have a sadistic side
who thoroughly enjoys
when people get served
karma on a silver platter,
fed by a silver spoon,
served fresh but cold,
while someone massages it
down their throats
But that’s why I keep her
locked away, with no key in sight
✨Deferential Devil✨
The way someone died
is never as important
as their actual loss
We ask “How?”
as if knowing will take away
some of the grief, and wonder
whether there was something,
anything we failed to do
to stop their demise
✨Deferential Devil✨
Deferential Devil Poetry 