Delicate Scent

I'm the man glued,

Right splat in the middle,

Yet always on the run,

Am I coming ?

Or,

Am I going ?

Who really knows,

Looking both ways,

White dose of Heaven,

It's Delicate Scent,

Gives me life,

The Devil occasionally,

Takes me for a ride,

Picking away,

Forced to morn back,

Athletically perched,

On my shoulder,

Spitting out lies, like,

telling me to die,

That delicate Scent,

It follows my nose,

Like a close friend,

There when needed,

To stitch me all up,

Lifting my spirit ,

Treading along,

Numbing the Devil,

along with his tricks,