The devil made me do it

He made me go down to the crossroads
And sit down on his knees

He made me call the number of the beast
And go down to Georgia
To go running with him

He made me wear Prada
And turn the other butt cheek

Which made me realise
He was an imposter

He could’ve taken me to Auschwitz
And sit down on the non existing graves

He could’ve made me call Pol Pot’s number
And go down to the killing fields
To go running with him

He could make me wear a veil
Have me raped
And get me stoned for adultery

Beelzebub
Has more to show
Than this

Very loosely based on NaPoWriMo prompt 28, this poem started with a some song lyrics on the devil, digressed, entered history and got serious. The title comes from this song:

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