The Angel and the Devil
The Angel and the Devil
Locked in bitter play of word.
What seems to some as art,
To others seems absurd.
Where does one draw the line,
Or are there lines at all.
The Angel writing divine,
The Devil tempts to fall.
Neither giving an inch in the game,
Locked within a battle of wits.
The fates were the ones to blame,
Now giving each other fits.
Tit for Tat and back again.
Neither wanting to lose the war,
Of course we know who wins,
As it was written so long before.
But the game plays itself out,
Each exacting their own toll.
In the end good win over doubt,
Let the good times roll.
By JToddUnderhill
© 2008 JToddUnderhill
(All rights reserved)
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