Impetuous and arduous

Inveigle he could beggars

to crave the skin he was in

only dashing all hopes with

calculated exits once he had his

own way

Never to be found

whether abound the same ground

twice

Goodbyes were only cries

brought from the skies

while spies told lies in which

would unearth all those who

despise

his imminence

thrice the suspense

of what lurks behind the trents

he wears so proudly

Yet it is the profound tall

imprint

of that dent that glides

And not the foot print that

slides

that bores lustful interest

Though baring only part of an

Angel

Once inside he can corrupt

the Devil