DEMONS
Demons
Deep in the forrest of the depth of my soul
lived an insecure wretch down deep in his hole.
He was not long ago forsaken to rot,
secluded and shamed for the hell he hath wrought.
The soul can not soar without faith in the sky.
It hides in the darkness ashamed but to try.
Violently thrashing this life and that past,
ever uncertain, indecisive, outcast.
Internal strife of his own psyche's make,
In cold damp dark left to shiver and shake.
A stranger to self, another man's role,pathetic disguise from self despised soul.
This wretched recluse, self-exiled underground,
must meet his demise before hope can be found
Mindful but stubborn embracing the pain,
a delicate task this breaking of chains
Many facades each a further misfit,
hiding his truth down his insecure pit.
Razed and disected, his weakness confessed
Little repose to a man self obsessed
Desperately clawing from damnable depths.
Dragging his psyche up arduous steps.
Battered and bruised and humbly unaware
How bright his light shines, from depths whence he cares.
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