The devil in me listens quietly – waiting
Patience of a saint she has while
She waits for me to falter, fall, flat on my face
I don’t really like her too much but she’s me
Unreal yet real - beautiful and ugly too for all to see
Who is behind the mask, devil woman or me?
We’re one of the same stuff made of same blood
Same flows through our veins like oil and vinegar
She sometimes forces her way through – playing
Me like a fiddle, strong and hard without love
My journey’s taken me inside out and yet
I dread to hear her voice – so very different
Yet similar to the voice that is mine own.