We all, are devils
right here, in our stiff cores
which had dwelled irked ravens
lies, roscoes ready to spit a mass of dolors

We all, are devils,
for in the forest of our existence,
lies puddles of evils
or spongy lands of slippery pretence

We all, are devils
for our smiles, is a mile-away from candour
and in the province of peas, we are weevils
ready to feed on all, and more

We all, are devils
a raging Apollyon, so beautiful