"When You Let the Devil Win" (rough draft)

  In the midnight hour you lay bed
Waiting for the moment to turn red
Suddenly you see him there
knowing that you feel despair
You take his hand and when
You look down, you see the blood red
Wedding gown.

 You sit there like a doll of cloth
As he twirls you round and round.
Every step burns your feet,
Every touch pierces skin and makes
You bleed.

 Round and round the room will spin
Each wall bearing every sin.
You cry as your make up runs,
Making black streaks on once pail skin.
Finally he turns to you and says,
"This is what happens when you let the devil win."


- M

 I was listening to Flyleaf when I wrote this and this poem popped in my head,  (I get into different moods in writing whether I feel like that emotion or not, which will explain later writings that could be sad, angry, or dark like this one in some way).