The Saviour that was Satan

More often than not, when in the state of despair
We frantically seek light, only to be disillusioned
By pretty rainbows and empty promises.
We fall prey to temptation
We sell our soul for the sweet promise of paradise

Yet time and time again
the cycle returns
Like the mind has no memory
Like the mind is empty
We follow the same candied road
Gingerly like a drunken sailor
Happily gulping the sweet air it fills
Oblivious of the peering eyes

Despair?
Nay..
When in despair shoult we not be wary?
It is so that the soul longs for a way out
That trickery becomes alien
And the mind becomes numb

It is not seen that the Saviour is Satan.