Isn't it obvious? The devil is afraid of you. He is afraid of the light you hold in the darkness, that you carry around within you. That's why he tries so hard to snuff it out. He tries to tear you down, clawing at your weakness, trying to turn the light off. He tempts you because he knows you are stronger than him, and wishes for you to feel some shred of the weakness he feels. He's afraid of hope. He's afraid of you and your beautiful story.

He wants the throne, he says he does.

He wants the throne that you gloat about so much.

He wants what you hold over his head.

But does he?

Or has he, like you, fallen in love with this illusion?

This one of fairness and black and white,

When both of you are grayer than a cloudy sky?

Does he really want your throne, or is he content with his life?

No.

He, like you, is afraid that one day, someone will shatter the illusion,

Revealing both of you to be gray.

And he'll be so used to being bad,

That he won't know himself

anymore.

The Devil and you,

as "different" as can be.

You fear the same things, you do the same deeds

But one is day and one is night

One is forgiveness and one is plight

One is black and one is white

Or is it?

You fear the illusion, shattering.

Well I've got the hammer, my darling.

Don't be afraid of the devil.

The devil is afraid of you.

You have legions of angels on your side.

A two-edged sword that can slice the air and make it bleed.

An impenetrable shield that yields to none.

Don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid of the devil.

The devil is afraid of you.

You're a rebel against the rebellion.

A soldier who can't die twice. A raging fire with hands of ice.

A worthy warrior of words.

Don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid of the devil.

The devil is afraid of you.

He only has the power you allow him.

You've got a mind so strong, others strain to obtain the thoughts in your brain.

Immune to all the lies.

Don't be afraid.

Don't be afraid of the devil.

The devil is afraid of you.

Your rising is his downfall.

You are anointed, appointed, adorned.

An invincible believer.

Don't be afraid.

The Devil is afraid of kittens. This revelation surprised him too. It was something in their eyes, something devious. Perhaps it was was because he knew what the kittens had seen. They know exactly what he did that day, that day in the snow. They had something on him, something dark and incriminating. First, a snow angel. He knew this was wrong on many levels, but he couldn't help it. He nearly giggled, but it was more of a nervous growl. And then, nearly a minute of catching snowflakes on his tongue. He didn't mean to stand there that long, but the falling snow was mesmerizing; it almost made him forget about his existential crisis. But he was ripped back into reality as he saw them watching. Oh yes, the kittens were watching from inside of the frosted windows. They witnessed his moment of weakness, his moment of innocence. They knew exactly what they had to do. But they needed to be patient and wait for the right moment. The Devil knew he was on barrowed time, but when and how he'd meet his demise, he didn't know. But the kittens knew, and he was terrified.

"I'm not touching that thing!"cried Satan, after Adolf sat down with Vlad and Joseph, setting a flat rectangular box in the middle of the black oak table.

They all chuckled as Vlad reminded Lucifer, "We all know what happened the last time you joined us for game night."

Adolf chimed in, "Right, you wet yourself right onto Atilla's robe when you landed on Boardwalk! AH HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Piss off, mortals!" Snapped back Beelzebub. "You all know I can't stand that game!"

"But this version is Care Bearolpoly," giggled Stalin.

"It's the same fucking thing!" the Ruler of the Darkness retorted.

Adolf gently lifted the lid and the Devil screamed "Please don't do it or I will eat all your WAGs, you assholes!"

Der Führer reached in the box slowly while the others could hardly hold themselves together.

Suddenly, Adolf smacked an orange card on the Antichrist's forehead right between the horns. "Go to jail. Do not collect $200!"

Vlad fell right off his chair laughing as the Evil One fainted dead away.

I lost it all and this time it wasn't God who screwed me over. It was the Devil, they took away everything I've ever loved. So, I thought to myself 'Why not do the same to them?' From that day foward I devoted myself to tricking the vulnerable, greedy, and wealthy into scam that would ultimately lead to their undoing. I intend to take the throne when it's finally my time; because if there is one thing the Devil fears, it's competition.

What is the Devil afraid of?

She can’t tell you, because her vocal cords were scorched.

History is made up of ‘ology’.

Paleontology; the study of dinosaurs. Archeology; the study of fossils. Anthropology; the study of humans. And to take it one step further… gynaecology; the study of woman functions.

For eons, the first gynaecologists were women. Gynaecology was invented by women and because of women.

But history has a habit of casting women aside.

What makes the Devil quake and tremble?

She can’t say, because her throat aches with ash.

Men have raised themselves on the belief that they are superior.

That’s another thing that history is made of, not just men, but ‘erior’.

Interior; the inside. Exterior; the outside. Superior; better. Deterior; breaking. Ulterior; choices. And inferior; less.

When were we inferior?

When we carried your babes? When we expelled our own bodies?

Or when we forgot just where you'd placed us.

What does the Devil fear above all?

She doesn’t know, because her thoughts were all burned.

Men treated women, and men treated men.

When women began to treat women, and they survived childbirth, men; who had been superior until this time, became inferior.

So they called witchcraft, and they called upon the Gods.

They lighted their torches, and tied the women to stakes.

And they burned.

What is the Devil afraid of?

She can’t say, she can’t tell, and she doesn’t know.

But she shows you, because in Hell, the fires never go out.

The devil on your shoulder

The demon on your back

The skeptical whisper in your ear

The darkness of your mind

It follows

It feeds

It is always hungry

Tearing your flesh

Flaying your mind

Twisting your words

It fears nothing

It is fear

It is you

...or so it says

The devil fears that we will discover

That we will turn and see

His wretched face

His decrepit body

His shaking voice

It is like an old man!

I could kick it across a field!

A mere rock in my shoe

A mere tiny irritation

A mere forgettable being

"NO!" It screams!

I AM PAIN

I AM ANGUISH

I AM HATRED

I AM FEAR

I laugh

I step

I squash

The devil on your shoulder

The demon on your back

The skeptical whisper in your ear

The darkness of your mind

Is only afraid

of you discovering

he is easily overcome

All it takes

is for you to look

and laugh at him

The hymn of a siren is able to strike deep, into any sort of soul living or dead.

For fear, is not meant only for the living.

He dances on the graves of the greatest sinners, but how will the devil feel when he is able to touch love?

Even for a fleeting moment, he can almost grasp it in his hands, before it slips away to nothing at all.

Will this finally make the greatest immortal mortal again?

Being even in the same dimension of conscious as us humans, must make him quiver in his legs as we imagine this world.

For being immortal comes with a great price, never being able to see the beauty in transition and change,

All he knows are aching souls, will he finally feel fear once he sees his own chest cave open, exposing his own beating heart, never stopping for as long as eternity may be alive,

for as long as the atoms coexist, so will he.

I can only imagine over time that he too, will fall pray to ache.

I hope his own personal hell treats him well.