The battle between us

First there's her.
Her with a halo above her hair
and golden locks ever so fair.
Her with a smile as sweet as an angle,
and shimmering eyes, a beautiful hazel.

Her with a voice soft and sweet,
she seems to charm everyone she meets.
Her whom everyone chooses as favorite,
and they look at her like every breath she breaths is sacred.

Then there's me.
Me with the razor sharp horns,
which the top of my head adorn.
Me with a devilish smile playing on my lips,
and fire dancing on my fingertips.

Me with an evil glint in my eyes,
a person everyone seems to despise.
Me who reflects no angelic grace,
but instead has the look of the devil etched upon my face.

But did you ever stop to think
that maybe it's all fake?
Maybe the angelic look 
is only on her face.

And perhaps I'm not so bad,
your judgment is to rash.
Because her heart is as hellish as my face,
and my soul is seeping with grace. 
{k.b}