The Feast
## The Feast
They gather in the shadowed corners of my mind,
A ravenous horde, their forms undefined.
Not flesh and bone, but whispers sharp and cold,
They gnaw at peace, and stories left untold.
Doubt, the gaunt hound, with eyes that never blink,
He sniffs at joy, and leaves a bitter stink.
Anxiety, the spider, spins her silken snare,
Trapping my breath, and tangling in my hair.
Despair, the serpent, coils around my heart,
Squeezing the hope, tearing my world apart.
He hisses low, of worthlessness and pain,
A constant echo in the pouring rain.
They feast on dreams, and visions bright and bold,
Leaving behind a wasteland, barren, cold.
They steal my voice, and paralyze my hand,
Leaving me lost within this desolate land.
But even in the darkness, a flicker starts to grow,
A tiny ember, refusing to let go.
It’s the will to fight, the strength to rise and stand,
To reclaim my mind, to take back my own land.
For though they feast, they cannot truly win,
The human spirit burns, a fire from within.
And one day soon, I’ll banish them from sight,
And bathe my soul in healing, golden light.
Copyright © Pixy Pen | Year Posted 2025
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