The Demon On My Shoulder
The demon on my shoulder,
is whispering in my ear,
and telling me stories,
I never wanted to hear.
It tells me,
of blood and death,
of theft and murder,
or rape and meth.
The demon then whispers,
"Miranda, don't you see?
You can run away,
from me..."
The words slither over cracked
lips:
"You can run but you can't
hide,
Miranda...
Because i'll always sit here and
bide,
As the demon on your
shoulder,
but also as something else...
because I am...
yourself."
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