Sold

The problem is, I want you –
Well, parts of you at least –
But, I can never have you,
And therein lies the beast.
To live my life, but be on hold,
Is messing with my head.
To the Devil, my soul I sold,
And this is what he said,
“You can never win this,
You’ll always be a mess,
And every stolen kiss,
Will upon your conscience press.”
Would I go and change it?
I couldn’t if I tried.
For nothing lifts my spirit,
Like the moments by your side.
So, the Devil can have my soul –
I don’t need it anymore –
And I’ll gladly pay the toll,
To see you walking in my door.

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