The demon with the silver tongue bellows a beckoning belch:

“Come thither, young one, sit with me and allow me to dismantle your being.

You few have escaped by grasp, however my voice echoes in your thoughts.

For without your pain- I am nothing.”

Balance conquers your weak hues.

i am all that is nothing, ever-encompassing.

The layers of man are built on silence,

Several tides have washed this shore ever constant.

Slinking dabbler, I lie in wait for your falter.

Your filth runs thick through blood and time;

As you worm your way into open hearts,

I thank you for your exposure.

How could you think I would be tricked?