Waiting For His Angels Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The Devil waits, a patient grin,
For souls to end their earthly spin.
His angels, whom he calls his own,
Must dig the coal, in depths unknown.

The worst of men, a chosen few,
For him, they're best, to see them through.
Justice's strong hand, it comes their way,
A lucky break, for us, one day.

More power, gold, they always seek,
The Devil too, his hunger sleek.
But Hell's dark maw, it never fills,
Forever turning, with its chills.