Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

My Demons

The moon whispered it’s madness to me as I lost myself in its gorgeous glow.
We took the top down and the wind whipped, harmless through our hair,
a sweet scene,
I was clutched, close to your chest,
you kiss my sore forehead that aches from the agony of my violent visions.
My blood is on my own hands,
and I don’t battle my demons anymore,
I befriend them when the night falls,
giving them nicknames and new narratives.
Nobody was born bad,
my little darlings.
That’s the sympathetic song I sing to them as they toy with the shards of my soul,
and I am clutched, so close to your chest,
dreaming of something darling, for the first time.

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