Lissette Quiñones
Arts and Entertainment Editor
Heaven gave birth to a demon of highest praise
Question its purpose for the sequence of childish games
You should’ve known that its vixen would hurt
With that long hair and those sweet eyes
You’re decision was to never return,
But you’ve gone there at least three times
It isn’t the hand that you’re dealt but how you play cards
Christians are damned since hell seems to break hearts
And you cannot turn over and fold- it’ll call your bluff
Pick up new sets and see if they serve your needs better
You’ll be observed closer in its hold and fall and hurt enough
It's much of a nuisance but you feel you deserve to be together
So you’ll keep put in a place destined for glory
Knowing you won’t be safe resting in it poorly
Continue to pursue and invoke upon the depths of elevation
Listening to the cards shuffle with a devilish patience
Though the truth is you know that your friend, hell, is waiting
Wishing your hearts’ struggle wasn’t helping this satan
Giving it the upper hand- folding like a coward
Giving it another chance knowing you can't fight the power
Roll the dice and check each side to see if you win
You’re willing to place a bet using your life as collateral
It controls your life- guaranteed to make you feel stupid
Killing your faith and self respect-to make it right you roll after all
But heaven is not kind to those who fake identities
Yet repentance does not mind- therefore takes your mental peace
You are too lovely to not cherish it all at the table
Others have to play you once or twice
You think you’re ugly but such hellish thoughts are fatal
Lovers shouldn’t play you- should’ve done you right
The felt on the table shows your beautiful attributes
None else can ignore what’s unrefusable though some have refused
That is their shame- you are not at fault for such moments
Yet your conscience carries the weight of their hatred
You carry their pains- hence why you fall and love opponents
- why they’ve become conscious of the place where heaven’s gate is
The place where hell is the downstairs basement
Where pre-existing faith can’t help- now is complacent
Pride is the devilish bliss of the compliments you give
You speak and the heat rises hot enough to extinct earth
Lies are told for the hell of it but the real convict is cupid
To think that we could be in love but when we link it hurts
Saying that heaven is the mother of a devil is a childish game
It's playing her that's dangerous for lovers- but you like this pain.