Devils Play Ground Poem by Ron Farmer

its the devils playground
its all around
But its not satan, hes not making a sound

He's fast alseep.
but the demon is there, but in the dark it creeps, waiting to scare

Until the time. Until the time.
When the choice, the choice tis not mine.
And in my mind; I can't define, the place of which the demon shall shine.


I'm already dead.
No longer is it water nor is it bread, I can't survive
Tis heavy in my head. The trick its said, and this plan won't stop.

Belive it or not.
The time has come
The time has come to give him a slot.