Infected by Devils

I watch him fall

To the ground

My impish smile the only feature

Visible to onlookers

My hair-

Too long to all-

Drapes over my eyes

Only he can see the furnance

Behind my eyes

Cooking me in and out

Sweat leads down and blinds me

I like the top of my lip

The bitter taste of a job well done

A mix of iron and salt

I take one last look before

Clearing the thought of him from my mind

My rampant mind

Will it ever give me peace

Will it ever-

I release my white-knuckled grasp

Watch the

Iron and salt coated object fall

To the ground