Bad Child, Devil Child

Bad child, Devil child, pull him to his knees.
Clasped hands facing skywards, deliver silent pleas.
Beg for forgiveness; though deserve it you do not.
Renounce your treacherous sins, then go straight to your cot.
Refuse to say yours prayers, do you? You’ll burn in hell forever more!
Praise the Lord and worship His name, child, prayers are not a chore!
Mournful Devil child in his cot lies, thinking about what a God is.
Good, kind, merciful, vengeful... So why, he wonders, does this God of his,
Want to be worshipped? Why would He want His name sung to the sky?
Why does He need an assurance of His prowess? Especially when some of the people just lie,
To get in to the afterlife, And why would He want to be praised,
When He already knows how good His creation is? Devil child thinks his God is like a child raised
In a very spoilt kind of way. Why can humanity not give thanks and then let be?
Devil child feels overwhelmed. He drifts into a troubled sleep – I’m glad the Devil child is not me.

Bad child, Devil child, pull her to her knees.
Clasped hands facing skywards, deliver silent pleas.

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