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I had never seen an angel before, in my unfamiliarity, I fell for a devil instead
How am I to know if a smile is kind or cunning, when my angel’s smile is disorientingly beautiful in a manner all its own
What divides malicious from good intent, when my mischievous angel can only bring smiles
What harm are little white lies when there is nothing more painful than the spilled truth
What could an angel need a halo for, when the horns make them appear more human
Is the tail not more entertaining. when wings molt and tails swing painfully
What good is the music of a harp when the pitchfork’s gentle jabs make me feel that much more alive
My love may be the devil, but an angel would have been much less awakening