The Devil's Playground

From the depths of hell, the Devil comes to play.
It's a game where there is no use in pray.
Where heroes dig their own graves.
And where the brave becomes slave.

Here comes the devil to take his place;
With a fast, happy pace.
His evil eye as bright as a star.
His playground is war.

The roaring guns, his laughter.
The poison gas, his breath.
The soldiers are his toys,
And his playgmate is Death.

And again, the leaders set his place.
Again they invite him to play.
Here comes the Devil to play a game.
Here comes the Devil to shot them dead.

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741