A Nursery Rhyme

There is no devil underground, no angel flying Earth bound, on our shoulders they do not rest, but inside they do reside behind each and every chest. To nurture the angel or rear the devil is our choice, but there are consequences to who we give voice. An angel sheds constant tear, a devil thrives on others’ fear, for the angel lives off compassion and the devil on destructive action. Most of us linger in-between, growing half a wing and a horn so lean, but why not let our wings spring, soar above the material thing, and leave the devil in his crib, never to rise and tell his fib.