another poem about the devil

I'm worried...

about the devil.

He's been
a little down.

He shows
no joy in
accepted vices,
in his eyes
no hint
of the thrill
new temptations
usually bring.

He hardly
seems himself.

Perhaps a drink,
or a sacrifice...
maybe he needs a hobby?

I know,
I know,
it seems silly,
but still...
I'm worried
about the devil.
He's been
a little down.