He had just written his first bookAll his siblings gathered to take a lookIt was mystical and wonderful thats for sure His book had caused quite the uproarYet even under all that stressHe was always determined always tried his best When he was feeling sad or downWriting poems got rid of his frownFrom underneath his feet was sweptThe glory of the red carpet He didn't worry,falter or groanHe just continued writing,this time aloneAs he walked a dimly lit streetA stranger in a corner he chanced to meet "Answer three riddles" the stranger said"Get one wrong and you'll lose your head"There was sweat on his forehead as well as his palmTrying to will himself to stay calmBy the time the stranger beganThe writer grinned for he had a plan Said the stranger:"Who can't see, though they have eyesAnd people who can they slightly despise" Said the writer:"Oh I see, its all in the mindFor the people you speak of are blind" The stranger decided to try againThis man would feed his seven children Said the stranger:"What will do as you do, and say as you sayIt copies you yet the wrong way?" Said the writer:"From him you would require no protectionFor you can't be hurt by your reflection" The stranger panicked and paced to and froHe had to ask something this man wouldn't know Said the stranger:"Oh you poor little lambCan you answer the riddle of who I am?" Said the writer:"Well... based on how you actSomeone whom I should not turn my backBut through your intentions i can tellYou are a man-eating demon from hell!"  The demon shrieked in a fit of rageFeeling trapped as if in a cageThen he saw a dangerous sight....As he was hit by a beam of holy light