The Demon Dwells
maribeth3777
Posts: 19
(Not quite finished yet, but this is a start....)
He stares into my soul and pulls the demon out from the bowels of my hell.
Swear I’ll just listen for a bit, but never buy the lies of the story he has to tell.
Lost in his eyes and found in his voice, he knows exactly what to say to bring out the worst of my best.
Spoken of past sins committed, present virtue fleeting, reaching in, rips my heart from my chest.
I recall two children lost in the world of their own pain, not having the voice of reason to calm their fear.
Broken and abandoned, guilty of only innocence, facing the world bravely, never having shed a tear.
Parallel memories of past scars and heavy burdens carried long past their worth.
Each child waiting in the shadows to be freed with the coming of a new age and rebirth.
Swaddled in the comfort of what is familiar, self-loathing discontent feeds the demon dwelling inside.
It grows and swells until it bursts the bleeding flesh, now insisting attention, it can no longer hide.
The children left in the dark blindly searching for their only weapon of defense.
Slowly realized the weapon was destroyed during the death of their innocence.
The demon thrashes about, plots revenge, and retreats just before it can be brought to light.
It holds the mouths of the children shut and keeps them held prisoner, far from public sight.
It laughs at the misery of others caught in the cross fire of a war fought on the battlefield of the mind.
Flashing pictures of past pain inflicted, it refuses to let us leave the agony for someone else to find.
So we grow old with the hurt, though the wound never quite heals, left to picked by the demon that dwells within.
The leash tied closer to the neck, taming the beast proves to be a lifetime of work fit for one thousand men.
The monster trained, the children are free to roam, captivate the imagination and refocus the mind’s black eye.
They break deafening silence, redemption sought and found, reminding us to stop and take time for a joyous cry.
The man before me, once a child of shared shadows, greets me with his smile from the soul inside.
His demon freshly subdued, he is free to speak of his own children and release years of lost pride.
This time I listen intently for the message he wishes to share, and I buy each story he has to tell.
Because this time, it is the man speaking, and not his beast of burden, and the truth he wants to sell.
He stares into my soul and pulls the demon out from the bowels of my hell.
Swear I’ll just listen for a bit, but never buy the lies of the story he has to tell.
Lost in his eyes and found in his voice, he knows exactly what to say to bring out the worst of my best.
Spoken of past sins committed, present virtue fleeting, reaching in, rips my heart from my chest.
I recall two children lost in the world of their own pain, not having the voice of reason to calm their fear.
Broken and abandoned, guilty of only innocence, facing the world bravely, never having shed a tear.
Parallel memories of past scars and heavy burdens carried long past their worth.
Each child waiting in the shadows to be freed with the coming of a new age and rebirth.
Swaddled in the comfort of what is familiar, self-loathing discontent feeds the demon dwelling inside.
It grows and swells until it bursts the bleeding flesh, now insisting attention, it can no longer hide.
The children left in the dark blindly searching for their only weapon of defense.
Slowly realized the weapon was destroyed during the death of their innocence.
The demon thrashes about, plots revenge, and retreats just before it can be brought to light.
It holds the mouths of the children shut and keeps them held prisoner, far from public sight.
It laughs at the misery of others caught in the cross fire of a war fought on the battlefield of the mind.
Flashing pictures of past pain inflicted, it refuses to let us leave the agony for someone else to find.
So we grow old with the hurt, though the wound never quite heals, left to picked by the demon that dwells within.
The leash tied closer to the neck, taming the beast proves to be a lifetime of work fit for one thousand men.
The monster trained, the children are free to roam, captivate the imagination and refocus the mind’s black eye.
They break deafening silence, redemption sought and found, reminding us to stop and take time for a joyous cry.
The man before me, once a child of shared shadows, greets me with his smile from the soul inside.
His demon freshly subdued, he is free to speak of his own children and release years of lost pride.
This time I listen intently for the message he wishes to share, and I buy each story he has to tell.
Because this time, it is the man speaking, and not his beast of burden, and the truth he wants to sell.
Post edited by Unknown User on
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Comments
Has a very "other world" feel to me. Written like the great poems of our past.
Has a vintage vibe going on, at least for me. Felt like I was reading something written 200 years ago.
(that's a compliment btw).
Thanks for sharing.
"To question your government is not unpatriotic --
to not question your government is unpatriotic."
-- Sen. Chuck Hagel
this poem inspired me to do something simular (face's on the wall) sorry for the rip-off but I like your poem so much it kicked me in the shorts to do something.
Godfather.