A poem about my 'demons' (yeah, pet demons, very fashionable this season) I really mean 'a poem about a very, very sad person.'

My dead soul lies in a silver box,

Only my heart can untie the locks,

But my heart is rotting away in an ebony casket,

Don't let my demons escape their basket,

Right now they are harmless, curled up, asleep like cats,

But let them out and they fly away like bats,

If my demons start to fly,

Then slowly I begin to die,

Then they swoop downwards to earth oncemore,

But I can't control them anymore,

They sink their poisoned fangs into my skin,

I writhe around in the pain of my sin,

I am infected and no one can befriend me,

My beautiful soul-demons will be the end of me,

And I shall lay in agony forever in my mind's maze,

Nobody will be able to cross through the haze,

And I will die alone,

I don't deserve company, not even my own.

The End

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