The air was heavy, thick with foreboding dread As if the very fabric of reality was bended The trees outside seemed to lean in, as if to see The devil's handiwork, a dark mystery

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

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?