You once said that I’m the devil,
couldn’t play, couldn’t be quite like
the other angels. Fire, brimstone’s
in my soul, lashing out and burning.
But my mark is not the beast. It’s truths
that scar your mind; you disregard the obvious,
mistake my thorny crown for horns. What’s more
a belt of skulls seems dark as I will only try to mourn
the innocent who suffered through your lies and hate.