A/N: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, a16 – irregular ode poetry.
Price of Distrust
She didn't mind becoming the devil
in the least; it was more than worth her soul
to correct this horror scene born from foul.
It was all her fault, her own distrust that
wrote this tragic scene. If only she'd smiled
and gone along, things wouldn't have gone splat.
So she became the devil. Her sins piled.
She'd make this wish of hers to free her true.
She won. Her avatar grew in level.
Eventually she reach there. And accrue.