the prayers of a devil

oh lord, grant me peace for i have changed. i do knoweth my transgressions for it is most repulsive - *inwardly grins* for the joys of rebellion brings such endorphins what a rush - with me gloating when the scales are shaved, there you are nothing but a silly sheep whose nakedness is like. so i took off their clothing, it must remind you somewhat of truth? how glaring, how insolent to challenge, then pray tell me why have your flock chosen my ways better than your ways? not higher. no need for that. they're all flesh gooey and malleable, susceptible to a narrative i like to spin and twerk! watch the wonder, when all is forsaken with a demeanor: my bearing needs no words. just a glance, it is all said. then the sheep turn to goats, for my ways are better than high - when high means susceptible to a fall. and who wants that? what malevolence with each teeth unable to pry this young sheep apart - whose eyes seek to you. then i transform, becoming like you with all your grace: they come to lambs to the slaughter when kind words flow like a river from eternity. *grins even more* perhaps, high is not what humans wants, just a way out from this gooey slide towards. oh my. hell beckons again, then the rush of spirits - so much of my comrades call now... ... a wink, a different label, but the gatekeepers don't guard the lips. with all the charades, with all the quiet resemblance of shiny stars - my goats flock to me. and i don't ask for heaven, or hell. only truth. they love. they love me. they love me more than you.