Savaroe

Angelic composure
Harbors neatly in devil's wings
As Savaroe sits,
Chin in hand,
On a rock overlooking the blue waters.
Two moons loomed overhead
Whispering darkness in young Savaroe's ear.
No birds flew o'er,
No fish swam under,
Total comtemplative silence except for the soft murmur of the sea.
Stars twinkle in the sky
And reflect in Savaroe's tears,
Glistening tracks running down his smooth cheeks.
"How can I," he mused.
"How can I have done
The things I have done,
The crimes I've committed
Against the humanity I was created to sustain."
He sighed, letting his wings unfold slowly.
Savaroe's shadow fell across the scattered rocks,
Making him seem more grotesque and evil,
Though Savaroe is, unlike his appearance,
Quite small and sweet
In his own way;
As sweet as one can be when created to live in servitude to Satan.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
In a fog of despair,
Savaroe journeyed the long trip
To have a visit with the only one who would understand,
The outcast's hero,
The one the humans saw as the embodiment of evility,
His creator, whom the humans name
The dark lord Satan.
Accustomed to the tedious journeying,
Savaroe found himself lost in a daydream...

"Hup! Hup!" he heard, with a twig snap here and there.
Savaroe hid in the trees,
Watching life go on below him,
Two little girls playing in the forest.
One was tan, with neat golden hair
While the other seemed a heathen in comparison:
Quite pale, with large eyes and
A mass of unruly black tresses.
She seemed the more beautiful
To Little Savaroe, our handsome demon child.

Down from the tree,
Peering,
Gentle demonosity
Peeking out behind his eyes.
Quiet pools of milky light,
Shining moons of vibrant color,
Always changing,