Unlike metaphors to decrypt,
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.
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.