the devil is never in the details

and my best nights are started with the darkest of thoughts
rending, carving, trekking through my heart
cracked throat and torn lips
no, I will sing my songs until they want for nothing
and I will bare my teeth until they grab onto something

every thought poured into the funnel
that sits listless in the well of my mind
will spring forth and come to life –
there are not devils and angels
but monsters of my creation;

monsters are taken for evil,
but what is more evil
than the excuse of ignorance?
but is it ignorance if you never knew to ask in the first place?

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