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Satan
There I was standing alone,
My mom sacred,
My dad shaking.
My little brother in my arms crying.
It is in front of us,
Staring into our souls,
With his beady red eyes.
What is my little brother asks.
I whisper quietly in his ear,
It is satan.
What will he do to us.
I don’t know.
Then with a quick movement,
We are with the dead.
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I wrote this at the end of the school day. I do't really know why, but my friend told me to write about satan.