Demon

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In the eyes of a dreaming demon,
Lies within the dry leaves that crumble up,
Delicate and old,
Ancient but young,
The heart of an angel,
Glowing with purpose,
With a thousand mistakes,
And a mild old lie,
That breaks like bones,
Promising that blow.
With caution and delicacy,
The thousand times I've lied,
What is there to complain about?
The wounds beneath my heart,
The truth dribbles on and on,
Without meaning and truth.

The eyes of a demon,
The heart of an angel,
The rarity between you and I,
The purpose of my confusing words,
Draw no attention,
With the lies of a demon.
It's tongue holding more than it can bare.
But that's what they're made for.
To lie and punish with vain.
As the Angels find those and slay them between worlds.

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