The Demons Inside

The Demons Inside

The Demons in Hell, have been let out; they chewed through their chains, to wander about. 

 They found a new place, to run and be free; they’re buried down deep, and are a part of me.

They feed on my soul, and take my dreams for dessert; the pain is unreal, as my heart turns to dirt.

The blood that is spilt, to cure their desire; is cut from my flesh, with fire and barbed wire.

The scars are in deep, and carved to my bone; if you listen real close, each one of them moan.

The freedom I seek, from the Hell that is me; comes from undying love, or my death that I see.

One I can’t find, and one never takes; I’m beaten and broken, as I sit with the shakes.

I don’t really live, I just sort of exist; I am just a name on a page, on a very long list.

Nothing that special, or sets me apart; all that I have, are some words I call art.

All that I feel, are torments and pains; it courses like fire, as it burns through my veins.

With the fury of Hell, and the power of hate; it consumes to my core, and seals my fate.

I know that I’m done, because I’m used to this; there is nothing in life, I want to reminisce.

I look to the future, but see nothing to gain; no love to be had, just sadness and pain.

The Demons have won, and drained me of will; they creep up my spine, as I hear their shrill.

With teeth out of razors, and claws made of fire; they feast on my hope, and consume all desire.

I try to be strong, and act like I’m fine; but they’re draining my life, like a fine aged wine.

With no light in the tunnel, to see up ahead; I sit in the darkness, to be consumed by the dead.

A meal for free, with no fight to be had; I lay in the puddles, of my blood that’s gone bad.

I found my way out, as they tear me to pieces; my breathing gets labored, as my life force decreases.

I’ve done my bit, and paid my due; I’ll find my peace, as soon as they’re through.

These Demons are cruel, and never let go; I hope it’s a feeling, that you never know.

Something to learn, from this life that I’ve had; if you don’t find your way out, you’ll always be sad.

 

By Ron Lee      5/17/2014