You popped those red devils every night until the moonlight shines on you. Your daughter looked up to see you, with eyes full of tears while drinking a bottle of hatred. You gave that hatred the permission to destroy you, and you popped those Red Devils. You danced with your anger and sang to your pain. You popped those Red Devils. You laid passed out on the kitchen table and those Red Devils whispered in your ear while your daughter prayed that she got her mother back but you didn't stop popping those Red Devils.