Mild Devil

I had dreams to become a warrior

To conquer the wrath of demons 

And become someone's saviour.

Those dreams were like stars

Sparkling perpetually.

But the demon inside me was burning maliciously.

I strode with my battered mind

To the battlefield of my fears.

Valiantly I fought to escape my malevolent soul.

I came back, with my wings chopped

Truculent soul 

And undaunted will.

But that was too late.

For I was no more a fledging juvenile

But a whimpering senile.