Unlike metaphors to decrypt,

Without references,

Without sign-boards on crosswalks,

Without any other options,

Demons-by default-are born with us.


They just love resting with us,

inside the womb,

they wait as we do,

drained with air, water, fire and earth.


They’re unseen,

but they’re as real as our appendages.

They copy us.

They grow as we grow.


They burgeon from the gloom we inherited,

They feed off the lies we’ve been fed,

and they get bigger, stronger,

with every last bite of fear and pain and sorrow,

they master our imagination.

They design their games to win,

And they play with our silly heads.


We could trick them.

But we’re never ready

to pay the price of feeling them.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s