What do I look like-underneath?
Beneath the skin, the bone
To the inner parts of my soul,
Or whatever it is that exists there.
Has my twisted mind,
My morose thoughts,
Twisted it into something unimaginable, something horrid?
Like the picture of Dorian Gray?
Or, maybe in spite of that, is it even more beautiful
Than it was.
Just trapped beneath a tell-tale camaflouge
Of skin and bone.
Lucifer was God's most beautiful angel,
Did his mind and his actions,
Transform his apperance into something morbid and terrifying?
Or is the Devil still beautiful?
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