The devil himself

He had demons in his eyes

They soared in, across and around his pupils

Clouding his vision

They endeavoured to ruin his spirit

And often they succeeded

The pain he felt cut deep

Deep into the night time

Occupying his thoughts

Complicating his actions

Consequently jeopardising his good nature

From the inside looking out

He saw an endless pit

Forgetting nothing lasts forever

Not knowing that digging deeper

Treasure lay waiting to be discovered

I only saw a king

His ability to hold things together

Amongst the mental battles he tried to conceal

But energy screams only at those capable of listening

A cry for help is still a cry

Tearless, but important

The story remains unfinished

A Volta is yet to come...