The devil couldn’t reach me,
so he whispered through the cracks
of people I loved.
He wore their faces,
borrowed their voices,
and spoke in tones
I couldn’t ignore.

The devil couldn’t reach me,
so he placed battles in my mind,
made me question my worth,
turned silence into knives,
turned mirrors into enemies.

The devil couldn’t reach me,
so he sat patiently,
knowing I’d carve my own wounds,
knowing I’d fight myself harder
than he ever could.

evil doesn’t always arrive
with fire and horns.
Sometimes it arrives
as the shadow of your own thoughts,
and smiles
because you never notice
you’re the one holding the blade.