Satan's Clutches

Constantly I struggle to survive each day,
Always feared I'd end up this way.
My vision blurry my mind unclear,
I've become a puppet and the Devil my puppeteer.
He controls every action every move every thought.
I can't believe for so little my soul has been bought.
With all that I know now I only wish I'd known then,
Never would I have allowed for Satan's tricks to begin.
Now my body is aching my arms are sore,
I can hear the Reaper knocking at my door.
And as life starts to draw down my final curtain,
The one thing I can I say I learned for certain,
Is no matter how hard you keep clawing and scraping,
From Satan's clutches there is no escaping.

This poem is about: 
Me

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