The Black Imp

[disenchantedenchantress]

 At least Don Quixote had his windmills.

You mindlessly tilt at nothing.

Your words and actions don’t match up

And your pain and misery spreads like the plague.

Angry shouting about Honour and Truth

Yet your Honour has gone

And your Truth has slipped you by.

 

Man of substance

Your portrayal is flawed.

The Black Imp of Deceit sits at your feet

A constant companion.

You don’t even notice him.

Your Gods are watching even if you don’t care.

They notice as you break your vows.

 

Payback is a Bitch.

SHE is merciless and unyielding.

SHE has no care for your feelings or motives,

SHE sees only cold naked fear and truth.

SHE will hold you up

Weigh your soul.

And find you lacking.