By Micah Mann
What lovely gift, a shot at life
A chance to construct something nice
Deter from past illusions quick,
Lest sober judgement ruin it
This gift, a song, a clanging gong
That fills the tense spring air
Wind flying upward, he spirals downward
Into devil’s snare
What cozy home, a padded zone
To lie and rest your case
The walls they echo, you slip and let go
Fighting seems a waste.
Should you be simple? Ask to redo?
Rising all too late
Scythe in hand for a barren land
No use to ask for rain.
You can’t defend what could be,
Which forms a calloused shame
Everything’s fine, it would be,
Were you not at devils gate.
I thought I had escaped it –
What trickery is this?
A fraud, a fight, my fall from life
Bewitching me to sin
A handshake seals a bargain
What use is a lasso for the sea?
That rope was once a safety net
A noose is now the fee.
My eyes won’t do their duty
My hands, they writhe and shake
It wasn’t worth it, now I see,
I’m locked by devil’s chain
I really wish I’d given time, considered devil’s chain
It wasn’t worth it, now I’m here, enslaved by devil’s chain