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

Beauty Beyond

Beauty Beyond

This story I have, is as old as time; I dreamt of a girl, that I wish would be mine.

I wake to a world, that is silent and cold; she consumes all my thoughts, for her I wish I could hold.

I try to lie down, for in my dreams she is there; it’s a feeling I miss, that someone might care.

She floats in my mind, above the fires of hell; I search all the heavens, from this place that I dwell.

A beauty with wings, is a glimpse that I see; I wonder if she’s real, or only exists within me.

I run and I search, to find my desire; a feeling I know, she is all I require.

What will I do, if I see her for real; what would I say, about the way that I feel?

They say the truth that you speak, will set you free; but all I have seen, is I’m left alone in this sea.

With the waves of my life, pushing me down; I sink in the sorrow, that cause me to drown.

I try to stay strong, and fight for some peace; but how easy I’d be, to make it all cease.

The fear that I have, that I’m losing this fight; is because I’m alone, as I cry through the night.

With the streaks on my face, from the tears that still flow; I hide in a pit, from those that don’t know.

I want to be free, of this sorrow and grief; to look in her eyes, and get some relief.

For the one that I seek, is an Angel of peace; she takes all my pain, and makes it release.

Don’t know what she’ll think, if she ever finds out; she’s the destiny I want, when I finish this route.

A strange feeling appears, that I feel on my face; a smile emerges, at the thought of her grace.

It’s frightening to feel, a reprieve from my grief; because the time that is lasts, is always so brief.

The trip that I take, back to the pit that is home; gets deeper and darker, every time that I roam.

I wonder how long, I’ll survive these trips; as the darkness consumes, with my heart an eclipse.

I hope that the light, is soon to emerge; with the one that I found, and our love will converge.

She is an Angel with scars, and some dirt on her wings; but the beauty I see, is beyond all these things.

                             By Ron Lee      4/2014