“Oh evil spirit, evil spirit, evil spirit,
Why do you shun the words of God?”
The evil spirit rose before me,
deathly pale and deathly calm.
“You ask a question, simply answered,
but now is not the time for banter.”
“Why, oh spirit, won’t you answer?
Why won’t you but barely banter?”
The evil spirit cocked its head, his red eyes glaring all but death.
He considered the boy before him curiously, unsure of his motive entirely.
“I’ll tell you this impertinent boy,
that on the day I lost all joy,
the lord our…your God,
that man creator,
stole from me, my own creator.”
“That’s it then, the answer I sought?”
The evil spirit glowered then, a glare most baleful, evil and grim.
He stared down at this small human child, and wondered why he felt so riled.
The evil spirit softly laughed, a sound more dreadful than any wrath.
He slowly moved and glided closer, his evil presence all a glower.
The boy looked up upon the spirit, his heart near gone, his will not in it.
“Why…yes it was.”
And then the boy knew no more, his last gasp hanging in the air.
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