My Demons Play Me

Only short days ago we were together,
Afloat, in perfect union,
Now, this morning,
Alone, wretched,
I smash upon the rocks.


My demons play me like a paper toy,
All powerful, they pour rivers of molten metal,
Into my mind,
My brain, thick, slow, self-defeating,
Trips me,
And tells me,
I cannot have you.


Labouring to beat at all,
My heart aches,
With my own unworthiness,
And I cannot breathe.
And life its very self,
A thing of loathing,
And confusion.

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