Psychology of the Devil

Bitter sweet sounds tickles his ears. If he turns right, hypocracy conquers; if he turns left, misery reveals. What if he was just a seeker to find rare evil deeds. No sunshine in his mind, all day wandering around. Indeed the soil is possessed by many dark souls to ruin another day. The white angelic masks tricks him sometimes. All the good will diminished in intensity thoughout these grounds. Oh poor seeker, you never had to seek, still running from one to another. You pray the young ones don’t grow soon. Just in them, you skip. 

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