He worked with precision, a master craftsman Tinkering with the shadows, a wicked artisan The sound of whispers echoed, a chilling hum As the devil's power began to seep, a malevolent drum
But as I turned to run, a voice whispered low "You've seen the devil install, now you'll never let go" The words echoed through my mind, a haunting refrain As I stumbled through the night, with the devil's presence, a lingering stain.
In that moment, I beheld a sight The devil himself, with calculated might Installing... what, I couldn't quite discern A presence, a power, or perhaps a concern?