Today I found myself wishing,
wishing for things I once had.

Wishing for the bouquet of happiness that was once my life.
The girls, the drinks, and the excess can really make a soul weak.

But even as a weak soul, I was happy as I was,
But the excess can make a happy weak soul into a bitter old man.

I lay on my deathbed as Satan himself mocks me.

He cries, “To seek thrills and joy as you once did, is a damnation of a soul;
now you seek death the same as you sought life and liberty few years ago”.

I can only remember the memories of the life I held for granted.

And it is only the memories that I need to bring a smile to my face.

Satan cackles and laughs to himself as I hand him my soul.

I say:

“Dear Satan, Do not be overjoyed. My life is but a book, and you are only left with
what remains of me and that is nothing more than a diary of a damned soul.”