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Lay Down Your Demons

I plea with my woes to leave my head alone, 
alas they leave my croaking soul slain. 
At night I sleep with my tears along the ill-faded pillow, 
as I try to fight the battle that I know will end in unhallowed defeat. 
When the full moon rises, my bones begin to shake, 
With trepidation and fear that they may find me awake. 
I cover my face with scratchy wool, 
Hoping that it will keep the demons from climbing through the window.
At least I know that I am addicted to the pain, the aching and burning inside the crevices of my brain. 
My mother always told me to let my limbs lay, for the monsters might sense my quivering decay.
Sometimes my father would cradle me so, he’d rock me until I remembered how vain I was, but the monsters in my head put on an amazing show. 
They tell me to abstain, leaving them alone, even though they shocked me, leaving my heart to fill with an unrighteous glow. 
Although my thoughts have drained me so, I was destined for the life of a bubonic low. 
My demons, sweet demons of the night, lay your heart at my feet, and your mind at my soul, you may rest with the trees, that billow in the cold. 

August 28, 2019. 
Tom and Lisa Wainwright 

Copyright © Rory Wainwright | Year Posted 2019


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