You have resided in me for as long as I can remember.
You seem to haunt me every September.
Your claws burn me like the everlasting hellfire.
Every year you cause my small things to become dire.
What you don't know however is that I have a weapon.
He happens to be sent from Heaven.
He has this thing called wrath.
I warn you not to stand in his path.
You have outstayed your welcome.
My savior grasps my shoulder as he speaks "well-done".
He lifts me away from this hellish place.
As I land on earth I instantly pace.
My savior seems strange,
he seems to be filled with rage.
His angelic face covered with blisters.
My life always caught in the midst of twisters.
For the savior I see before me,
seems to have eaten from the forbidden tree.
The face before me belongs to you,
the famous angel that went askew.
Demons leave me now,
and leave me with my sacred vow.
Your father is here,
leave me for this cursed year.
A Tortured Soul