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