There are no demons
Other than in tablets and scripture
If at all there is
It is the one that has written it as so
In the hearts of humans
Lies dormant, darkness
In the dogmas, they paint pretty pictures
Of morals and deeds of saintly nature
Yet the soul knows
What it has spun, in its momentary lapses
Of vile and putrid filth
That always lashes it's shores
Yet, the audacity to call another evil
When their own existence is nothing less
There is no lesser in this
Only purity
A pure in such is a better soul
Than an impure at this impurity
Both, are human, both its breeding
And as it unleashes in fragments
Of sterling egos, staunch beliefs
It is all but easy to see
For the unhastened mind
For it always stops to hear
The evil a heart harbours
