The Devil’s dance of retribution

In shadows draped, a soul in despair,
a marionette of torment and snare.
Each day a stage for their venomous act,
a symphony of malice, a heart under attack.
The victim’s eyes, wells of silent cries,
echoes of pain in their muted guise.
In every whisper, a dagger’s sting,
the poison of words, their torment they fling.

The tormentors dance, their laughter obscene,
oblivious to the justice unseen.
But fate weaves its threads, a cosmic design,
their wicked deeds, their downfall entwined.
For in the depths of shadows they sow,
a harvest of sorrow shall surely grow.

The Devil watches with eyes ablaze,
awaiting the hour, the reckoning days.
He sees the tears, the anguish untold,
the innocence crushed, the spirit controlled.
A pact he forms with the victim’s pain,
to unleash retribution, to break the chain.

The moon ascends, a spectral glow,
whispering secrets of the tormentors’ woe.
Their fears take shape in the midnight air,
each nightmare descends, their souls ensnare.
In every shadow, a demon’s gleam,
the echoes of laughter turn into a scream.

In twisted irony, their fate unfolds,
as the darkness consumes, their terror beholds.
For the Devil’s justice is swift and true,
their torment returns, their nightmares ensue.
The hunter becomes the hunted prey,
their cruel legacy washed away.

But as the tormentors meet their demise,
a twist of fate, a soul’s disguise.
For within the victim, a darkness awakes,
a hunger for vengeance, a pact it makes.
With eyes that gleam, a chilling grin,
the victim ascends, their reign begins.