The Devil's MisfortuneMature

The devil creeps in.

Sadness sinks into her skin

As tears stabbed her hurting

Heart. She takes the bottle,

Crying out to God. “Make

Me stop! Make me stop

Hurting! Where are you?

Please I’m so sorry!”

Pills scatter over her

Disk as she counts.

Two, four, six, eight.

The numbers increase.

She hesitates before

Grabbing her bottle of

Water. She thinks of

Everyone who she

Loves, and whispers,

As her tears pierce her

Broken heart. “I’m sorry”,

Is all she says. She takes

The pill in the palm of her

Hand and peer into the

Computer screen. Her breathe

Becomes heavy as she chokes

On her own saliva. Her palms

Shaking as she places the

Pills in her hand. The devil

Is winning. She looks one

More time at the container

That contains her deepest

Fear. Everything unravels,

While her body is etched in

In fear. She can’t let the

Devil win. She touches the

Pills and the container. She

Can’t bring herself to do it.

To end it all right there, and

Never worry about her worries.

To never feel pain, and sadness.

She sets the pills downs, and picks

Up her phone. She has defeated

Death, and God laughs at the

Devil and the Devil himself

Grovels in his misfortune.

The End

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