The Demons

My throat hurts from yelling 

Yelling for help to save me from the demons in my head 

The demons that paint my vision with nothing but red 

The red of my blood gushing from my throbbing wrists 

The red that I so strongly desire to see every single day

The feeling of the sharpness and stinging that the demons inside my head consider vital for survival 

I want it to stop

I want it all to end, but it never does 

I yell at those demons telling them to go away

But the constant hissing and creeping with their long black nails haunt me every waking moment

Their old, dirty, gnarly hands cover my eyes with nothing but darkness 

And sometimes, just sometimes 

I see light 

So I reach out 

But the demons’ dirt dirty hands pull me back into the pit of never ending darkness 

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