The Devil’s Advocate

The dam of tears clouds her judgment, beating heart consumes the brain.
“I love him…I really do, but I don’t know if I can take this anymore!”
Then you know what you must do child… you must kill him.
“Kill him!? I can never do that! I can’t take a life! I could never hurt the person
I love, he’s everything to me… I don’t know what I would do without him.”
I know what happens when you stay with him… you die.

“I don’t care, I would rather die at the hands of the person I love than to take a life!
just the thought of it makes cringe, I can never hurt another human being, never.”
You are too naïve; you know you must kill yet let your emotions drag you to death.
The darkness of the room had imprisoned her, the sun unable to come to her aid.
“but I can’t, I just can’t! I’ve never killed so much as a bug in my life, I don’t even
know how I’m having these thoughts right now, this is all too crazy! It’s insane!”
These thoughts are keeping you alive, futility has been the epitome of your existence
to this point, you will die a merciless and brutal death unless you decide.
The blood ran cold as the devil’s advocate began to infest her mind…ever so slowly.
As the darkness made its way closer to her heart the devil’s advocate cloaked with
the atmosphere of her consciousness feeling, absorbing and becoming the woman.
“Hey bitch. I’m home! Where the fuck is my food at!?” “Just a moment babe, let me
freshen up.” One should have the proper attire for the funeral of a loved one…
wouldn’t you think so? “Hurry the fuck up bitch! I’m hungry!”
The advocate in woman’s clothing made her way down the wooden staircase, each
step ever so sinister; even the walls could sense the blood lust emanating from her.
“How was your day babe?” “Fuck you so happy about!? You cheating on me?”
“That wouldn’t even occur to me, I love you.” “Bitch you better!”
“The usual?” she would ask in a horrendously ominous tone, her words disguised as
A lullaby sung to a newborn; sweet to the tone but poisonous to the touch. “Yeah,
and double time that shit! I ain’t eat since fucking morning.”
The advocate makes the sandwiches and presents them to him, she hands him the
plate from behind, little did he know…that plate would be the last thing he sees.
The dam of blood clouds her vision; pulsing brain consumes the beating heart.

Tell me what you think in the comments! I read and reply to all of them and welcome feedback for improving my stories, poetry, and insights. Thanks for reading!

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